


Lena, The Great

by Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Catherine the Great - Freeform, Dubious Consent, F/F, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, History, NSFW, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer/pseuds/Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer
Summary: Based of The Great, the story (sort of) of Catherine the Great seizing power in Russia.When Lena's father passes suddenly, leaving their family in tatters, Alexander Luthor, Archbishop of Rao's Holy Orthodox Church, uses his connections to have his sister married off to Emperor Mon-El of Krypton. Their country weary from war, and married to a monster, Lena finds friendship with her guard Alex, and her lady-in-waiting Nia, but she cannot bear the gilded cage.In desperation to save her country and herself, with the help of her friends, Lena must survive the courts while planning a secret coup for power. Then her husband, in an effort to make her "tolerable," assigns her a lover, royal consort, Kara Danvers.All hail Lena the Great.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 61
Kudos: 223





	1. The Legacy of Lena Luthor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena Kieran Luthor, daughter of a noble of Xan, had just been informed she’d wed Krypton's emperor. Perhaps Lionel’s bastard daughter would be of use to Lillian after all.

Some centuries, several decades, and a handful of days ago was born someone of intelligence, ambition and, in some cases, more heart than common sense. Born in a time where women were deemed decorative, Lena assumed it was Rao’s attempt at irony.

The war between Krypton and Daxam had shed blood for generations, and all grew weary. Mon-El III had passed in battle of Erkol, bordering Krypton and Xan, leaving his son, Mon-El IV as Emperor. To strengthen the alliance with Xan, he sought a bride. 

Lena Kieran Luthor, a noble’s daughter of Xan, had just been informed she’d wed the emperor, and was, it seemed, the last to know. When sat down at the dining table, she’d assumed the worst, rarely addressed by the lady of the house beyond a quick snap or lecture. 

‘Traded,’ Lena thought, as her opinion was not required, yet she remained hopeful.

Nobility would scorn it ruthlessly – why her, so generally unlikeable with a destitute, shamed family?

_ Lillian enjoyed strawberries the evening before,  _ Lena refuted.  _ They were an expensive fruit, while serfs trudged gaunt through the streets and soldiers died by the province on the frontlines. _

The family  _ had _ changed following Lionel’s passing, there was no denying that, but only as it suited her stepmother to point it out. Should Lena asked for a new book, she was selfish and spoiled in the family’s time of crisis. Yet if Lillian fancied strawberries or a new dress, they must preserve the public face, of course.

The match had come as a shock to Lena, though she later found it to be a combination of Lillian networking her last remaining spiderwebbed court connections, and her brother Alexander’s recent advancement in Rao’s Holy Orthodox Church.

While she resented wedding a stranger, Lena had heard good things of Emperor Mon-El, and a fresh start in a new city was welcomed, far,  _ far  _ away from Lillian. She longed for Lex again, who now resided in the palace in spiritual counsel to Mon-El. 

The hope of both was short lived. Some seconds later, Lillian gushed how she herself would blossom in the royal court, away from the “simmering pretence of the provinces;” as if Xan were a farm in squalor as opposed to a vibrant, bustling country of the neighbouring Krypton.

Before Lena could ask a single question, Lillian had her swept from the room by staff to pack and ready for the journey north. Bustled and ordered about, barely with a chance to breathe, she couldn’t help feeling she was being shackled and shipped like cattle to slaughter.

Perhaps Lionel’s bastard daughter would be of use to Lillian after all.


	2. From Xan to Krypton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena journeys to Krypton, discovers the palace, and meets her betrothed.

Lena loathed carriage rides. The confined space pulled her corset tighter and the world rushing by left her nauseous and unable to read. More so, she hated that both these things left her trapped in a mobile coffin with her stepmother for days on end. 

Under heavy makeup, Lena blended with the fresh snowfall, dark hair twisted up into elaborate coils and knots, adorned in silver pins and delicate droplets. The luxuriant skirts of both women seemed to take up the bulk of the carriage floor.

“Sit up straight,” Lillian snapped, “I won’t have you slouching in there like some sullen animal.” 

Lena, as always, pressed such words to the back of her mind. “My corset is too tight.” 

“And your mouth is too open. A tight mouth, like a corset, reflects a strong backbone, and you’ll do well to pretend you have both when we arrive.” 

What could she say to that? Perhaps leap from the moving carriage and walk.

Talk of her future husband might soften her stepmother, she thought, who’d spoken of little else since the announcement. Lena, in all honesty, marvelled that Lillian hadn’t simply leaned out the upstairs window and screamed it into the night - “My daughter is to wed the emperor!” 

‘Daughter’ when useful, ‘charge’ when otherwise.

“What do you know of him?” Lena pressed softly. “Mon-El. Lex tells me he is a man of culture, that he seeks spiritual guidance daily.” Whether this was embellishment or grandeur was open to debate.

“He is our emperor,” Lillian recited absently, “and we’re all blessed by it.” With little else worth discussing, she rolled her eyes and pressed on. “Krypton is wearying in its continued war with Daxam. They seek another conscription in Xan–”

Lena paled more so, if possible. “They seek to drag _us further_ -?” 

“They seek to end the war in totality,” Lillian scowled, “with a secured ally in us, both nations will prosper. _Your_ job is to give him heirs, to strengthen the line.” 

While Lena never doubted children would be part of the arrangement, her corset continued to choke her. The finery about her neck turned noose.

“He hunts,” Lillian continued dismissively, “he engages with General J’Onnz daily in our fight with Daxam, commanding soldiers and drafting plans. He’s a man of courage and honour, and you are blessed to be his wife.” She stared the girl down. The cabin chilled. “Do we understand each other?” 

She watched the trees, now too still for her liking. “As always,” she muttered.

Lillian’s hand shot up and smacked into the carriage ceiling, bringing it to a screeching halt. Lena had to grab her seat to avoid toppling forward. 

Lillian flung open the door and disembarked like a lioness posing as a gazelle. “Get out.” 

Was this it? Was she being cast into the frozen woods to die? 

‘Unworthy’ infants were frequently exposed, Lillian had routinely told her in her Dark Times, that Lena herself should’ve been among them, being both a girl and a bastard. Lionel’s soft heart and Lillian’s ‘compassion’ alone had spared her. 

Frightened, Lena stepped into the freezing winter, holding up her skirt to keep it sweeping through the snow. Lillian stood rigid and unaffected, as cold inside as out. “Be elsewhere,” she commanded the staff without looking. “Tend to the horses or the carts.” 

Without meeting the ladies’ eyes, the servants bowed and made themselves scarce. 

“Position,” Lillian snapped. 

Lena’s spine straightened obediently, hands clasped low, sharp chin raised to attention.

“We reach the castle in hours. Consider this your final warning,” Lillian warned dangerously as she paced before her, “to speak up. Look at people as you talk. By Rao, pretend you have what it takes to support the man who rules our empire; that you are the sister of Alexander Luthor, man of Rao, and _not the bastard daughter of some gutter brothel serf_.” 

Lena swallowed the lump in her throat and raised her eyes to the cruel slits of her stepmother’s. “Yes, ma’am.”

“All you do reflects on us. When we arrive, you will be bathed and presented. Make a good impression. The wedding will be tomorrow.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Lillian stopped in her tracks, looking the girl over with disdain. “You know what to expect on your wedding night?” 

Lena flushed scarlet. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“And that is?” 

The flush deepened as she desperately hoped the staff was out of earshot. “We will–”

“Stop, you already know too little. There is no ‘we’ in the arrangement. He’s to be your husband, your king, and he will have his mistresses – as all men do, of which you are the unfortunate proof – and _your_ job is to make him happy and bear his children. _He_ will decide what he wants, as he wants it, and when, and you will agree with a smile.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl uttered helplessly.

“You will lie, spread, and welcome him. You need not speak beyond praise and gratitude. Remember, no lady finds the act worthwhile, yet it is our cross to pretend it is so. Present yourself as a field where seed isn’t to be wasted. Understood?”

The miserable creature swayed slightly against the wind, her corset stealing breath. Somehow she staggered back into the carriage after Lillian, and the gilded hearse set off once more. 

–––

As the carriage crossed over the border between Xan and Krypton, into Kandor, the nation’s capital, she stopped the carriage and stepped out. “Give me moments,” she asked the driver, stroking the horse’s neck as she passed. 

The chilled air flushing her cheeks, she walked towards the pebbled shores. Before the wild ocean, she sunk to her knees and pressed her lips to the stones. 

“By Rao,” she promised, “and all of Krypton, I shall be the empress you deserve.” 


	3. The Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena is married, and meets a particular lady of the court. Nia and Alex get an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off The Great, it includes a non-con scene, which has a warning just before [NSFW-CONTINUE] to skip if you need it.

Lena had visited the royal palace only once before, when Lex had been appointed. Lillian ordered her to close her mouth, as she’d been staring in utter awe of the majestic halls. Even raised in wealth, the sheer enormity of the palace left her speechless, the rich colours, intricate moulding, the flurry of finery parading about. 

She’d not met the emperor or anyone of importance, unworthy of the privilege, instead kept out of sight by ladies in waiting. As such, Lena couldn’t help smile that she was now being presented as his bride-to-be.

Now, ushered this way and that, Lena could scarcely breathe as she was near dragged to a chamber – hers? – surrounded by a whirlwind of people to bathe, dress, and clean her up. A bed large enough to fill a serf’s home, gilded furniture, and a sprawling view of the grounds, the vast ocean she had kissed on the horizon.

Only when she was near ready did Lillian go to personally fetch her beloved son, leaving Lena alone in a room with a young girl tending to the last of her needs. 

Lena couldn’t help staring at her reflection in the dresser mirror. The makeup she arrived in looked like a jester’s by comparison. A deep emerald gown of silks and velvet had been selected, matching her eyes and jewellery. Her hair, still being fashioned, hung in long waves down her back, half twisted up at the top with a silver comb of Xanian flowers. 

The young girl was quiet, efficient, yet gentler than the other ladies, she noticed, leading her to believe perhaps she was new and unfamiliar with Lillian. Her dark hair twisted up into a bun under her bonnet, Lena noticed a little crown braid peeking out. 

“My lady,” the girl offered meekly as she carefully styled a lock of hair, “should you like me to loosen your corset? You appear to be in pain.” 

Lena, to her horror, burst into tears. 

The serf girl staggered back, tripping over her feet and throwing herself to the floor in fear, shielding her head. “My lady, please! I- I’m sorry! I spoke out of turn, I forgot my place.” 

Lena’s compassion outweighed her humiliation and misery. “Rao, no!” she cried, sniffling, taking the shaking girl by the arm. “No! Get up!” 

What world had she entered where a child should fear a beating for a question?

The poor girl simply blinked, bewildered and suspicious, tears brimming.

“I- This…” Words failed the woman as she looked around the room. 

“May...may I speak, my lady?” the serf girl whispered, intent on the floor.

Lena carefully wiped her eyes to avoid smearing her makeup. “What’s your name?”

“Nia Nal,” she uttered, then quickly added, “ma’am.” 

“Nia,” Lena repeated. “Please, call me Lena.”

“I’m unworthy-”

The woman hooked her finger beneath the girl’s chin gently. “You have as much worth as I do. Please, call me ‘Lena.’ Since arrival I am addressed in formalities and nothing else, I have no name. Please, give me this gift.”

Nia fetched a small hand fan from the dressing table and began waving in at Lena’s face. “Before your makeup runs, Lena,” she explained with a small grin. 

Perhaps between nerves and exhaustion, Lena began to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. “I’m sorry,” she said, taking the fan gently. “Yes – please, loosen my corset.”

The girl quickly did as ordered, and Lena let out a sigh, deep heaving breaths. She found her centre for the first time in days.

“Do ladies need not breathe in Krypton?” she asked.

“You’re unhappy,” Nia observed hesitantly.

“I’m to wed the emperor,” Lena answered automatically, “and I am ble-” She stopped. “Yes.”

“What you’re doing is enormous. Few have been through it and so few are fit to speak of it, less worth listening to.” 

“I suppose. The journey was long, and my mother…” Even Lena wasn’t so brave. “What do you know of him, the emperor?” 

“Your fiance? He is…” Nia busied herself pointlessly correcting the jewels woven through the braids of Lena’s hair. 

“Please, be truthful. Nobody else will be otherwise. No harm will come to you.” She smiled a little. “As your future empress, I swear.” 

The girl gnawed her lip slightly. “He is…spontaneous.” Impulsive. “Bold before danger.” Reckless. “And has an insight most do not.” An idiot.

“Is he kind?” Lena asked nervously.

“Loyal to those he cares for,” Nia answered, which wasn’t reassuring. She took Lena by the hand, helping her to her feet and fashioned a pendant about her neck from the front. “You will make a fine empress,” she insisted, smoothing her lady’s hair tenderly, “you have already shown more compassion within hours than I have known in years here.”

"As you have done for me," Lena told her, holding her arm gently. "You have a kindness and strength I shall strive to be worthy of."

To the girl's shock, her future empress leaned in and kissed her cheek, and the most darling smile dazzled her face.

The chamber door thrust open before Lena could reply, Lillian followed by a stout and severe woman.

“You’re ready,” Lillian decided. “It’s time. Isla here is to be your lady in waiting, she’ll escort us-”

“No, thank you. I’ll have Nia as my lady-in-waiting.” 

Lillian’s jaw dropped. Lena feared Isla would kill the girl. “Ma’am?” she choked.

Lena made her first executive decision. “I am your future empress, am I not?” 

Lillian’s eyes narrowed into venomous slits. “As you wish. Come, you are to meet your husband.”

Lena grabbed Nia’s hand for dear life, who squeezed back. She only let go to answer a knock at the door. In walked a security team, who all dropped to one knee.

“Ladies Luthor,” the head guard greeted, and Lena couldn’t help her jaw drop. “Captain Alexandra Danvers, head of your security detail, personal protector.”

The labyrinth of fiery red braids indicated a northern warrior, uniform immaculate and elaborately decorated with medals on one side. A long scar trailed down the side of her jaw, and she moved with a slight limp on her left leg. 

“A pleasure,” Lena managed, attempting regal while Nia held back a smile. 

“You may call me Alex, should you wish.” 

“Alex then,” Lena said as Lillian hummed in derision.

It wasn’t lost on Alex, though she remained professional. “I’m to escort you to the throne room, my lady. The Emperor is excited to meet you. The halls have been cleared for your protection.” 

Though glad of it, Lena hoped word hadn’t got out she was nervous. 

“Introductions to the court will be secondary with your husband’s approval. Are you ready to go?” Alex’s eyes remained on Lena over Lillian, which was appreciated.

“Please,” Lena ordered, practicing her voice, “lead the way.” 

Surrounded by the team, Nia’s hand tight in hers, Lean walked behind Alex, making an effort to appear confident. The halls of the palace sparkled with a thousand treasures, every room in itself a work of art. Doing quick sums in her head, any one piece of art or furniture in any room would feed a serf family for three seasons or more. 

While initially the palace seemed a maze, Lena observed Alex’s study of every room and noise, and realised it was a protective detail, to confuse any assailant by disruption. She squeezed Nia’s hand so tight she feared she’d crush it, but Nia just squeezed back, smiling minutely in support. 

“Tell me of the palace, Nia,” Lena asked to distract from the thumping in her chest. 

“You needn’t waste time on a serf’s opinion,” Lillian scoffed coldly. 

“Yet I ask,” Lena retorted, emboldened by Alex’s presence. While she knew she couldn’t hide from Lillian’s wrath forever, it felt good for a moment’s victory. “Go ahead, please.” 

“I’ve been here since I was a child,” Nia admitted. “The walls have stories on every face, six hundred years old or more. It has survived fire, siege, and cradled a dynasty. It’s said to have been blessed by Rao himself. Every morning your great brother walks the halls with his cleansing smoke and chants.” 

Even Lillian smiled a fraction at the mention of her favourite child. “He does as Rao wills,” she agreed, “and we are all the better to follow his example.” 

However tempting, Lena made no mention of the numerous...less than pious moments she could name of Lex’s teen years. 

Finally, after she felt having walked the length of the entire palace, they arrived at a door heavily guarded, and Lena’s stomach dropped into her shoes. The men at the door saluted Alex on sight. “Danvers.”

“Stand down,” she ordered, and turned to the group. “The emperor arrives shortly and has requested Lena enter alone.” 

Lillian changed colours but otherwise remained composed. Lena almost stepped backwards into Nia but held her ground.  May Rao have mercy. 

Alex bowed low before opening the door. “Empress.”

With a deep breath, Lena strode to her destiny.


	4. The Husband, The Monster

Of all the rooms of the castle, the throne room was the most enchanting and intimidating, large enough to host grand balls and banquets. Portraits of royals past lined the walls, every inch from floor to ceiling as decorated in hand-done gilding. She ached to trail her fingers along it. 

From oldest to newest she followed the Kryptonese portraits, dating back hundreds of years. She knew some, as Xan bordered the kingdom, life and culture trickling over. Finally, at the end, was her betrothed, galant and serious, a sword in one hand as he strode his rearing horse. 

So this was the man she was to marry, was it? 

While aware of ‘poetic license’ Lena tried to be positive. Perhaps all that she had been told was true, that Mon-El was a man of honour and bravery, a shining symbol of all the Kryptonese Empire stood for. 

Mon-El III, his father, had ballads written of him, a brilliant battle tactician and warrior. He’d ignited and strong-armed the war on Daxam, and sured a trade alliance with Xan. 

At the far end of the hall, beyond the richest carpet trail Lena had ever seen, was a raised platform where two thrones sat side by side, a door on each corner of the room. The world slipped on its axis as it finally sunk in that tomorrow Lena would not only occupy one throne but her husband on the other. 

Lena’s taste in love remained a family secret, and Lex had insisted his sister’s marriage to a man would cleanse her. She deeply resented the idea, not that anybody cared for her opinion on the subject. Her cloak and dagger affairs with women had been fleeting to avoid scrutiny. Now, Lillian had stressed, Lena was to make herself useful. She would marry, uphold the family in status and name. 

Heart threatening to rip through her dress in the empty room, she touched her fingers to the portrait and prayed. 

Rao, I ask too much – this, I know. I seek too much in life when given more than most. I seek my mother, peace, and to learn. I seek family in its purest form, and I seek great love. I doubt to find the latter in Mon-El, but I beg of you, at least, let me find a friend. Let him be kind.

Compulsively adjusting her hair and jewellery, she’d no idea how she ought to wait. Was she expected to speak or just be appraised? Was she representing Xan, or did Mon-El seek a Kryp-

One corner door swung open, and braying laughter announced multiple men before sight. Two she did not recognise, cackling like school boys at the emperor’s jest.

The emperor. 

Lena couldn’t help glance from the portrait to the life figure. Whatever the reputation, the likeness was without doubt. A strong square jaw was covered by a short beard, dark hair cropped short, and darker eyes. Even from a distance, she knew he would be perhaps a head taller than her. 

Yet the perception between portrait and life seemed...stretched. 

Once it occurred to him they weren’t alone, he calmed himself and sauntered forward. Remembering her manners, she curtsied as such her knee grazed the floor, dress delicately fanning out as taught since childhood. As she rose, her back straightened, hands neatly clasped, chin raised, desperately searching for kindness in his eyes.

“So,” Mon-El mused, “you’re the Xan girl they sent over. 'Laura,' yes?”

Truly? “‘Lena,’ your grace."

He nodded casually. “I see.” Slowly and deliberately, he circled her, scanning up and down. “You look taller in your portrait.” He turned to his companions. "Send her back. Get me a tall one.”

Lena’s jaw dropped. 

The emperor began to snigger. “Rich. Rich! See what I did, then? I'm kidding. Kidding.”

“Oh,” Lena uttered, trying to laugh. “I see. Um- Very amusing.”

“Well, what do you think, Gregor?” 

“Not bad, El,” the stocky man apparently agreed. 

“I need an empress,” he explained, “who's from an aristocracy, but not from a family of power or a player. Yours, apparently, are fucked.”

Lena faltered. Perhaps a cultural difference (Xan men rarely swore before a lady.) “I… There have been some...difficulties, since my father passed. It was quite sudden.”

“I’ve heard good things about Xan girls, wild fillies,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken.

Lena wondered if it was bad luck for a bride to kick her husband in the shins. “We are of great heart,” she managed, as rehearsed, “I offer mine, in its entirety, from now until all time. I am blessed for the opportunity to share your life, to aid you in ushering in Krypton to a new era of prosperity.” 

The emperor burst out laughing. “Oh, by Rao, are you jesting?” 

Lena somehow paled and flushed simultaneously. “Excuse me?” 

“Here I was told Xan girls are wild creatures, not some girl playing teacher.” 

Don’t kick the emperor. 

It took all self control not to flex her jaw. “I’m sorry if I disappoint you, your highness. My journey here has been long. I’m certain with time to rest and get to know me, you’ll find joy in my true colours.” 

Mon-El looked her up and down again. “Yes, I suppose I will find joy _in_ you,” he decided. “If not, that’s what mistresses are for. Anyway, wedding's tomorrow at seven. I have to get back to my whores.”

“I- Excuse me?”

“Horses,” Mon-El corrected feebly. “Horses. Going riding.” 

He giggled to himself, and that was that. He turned on his heel and left, leaving a horrified and bewildered Lena in his wake. 

The world blurred slightly as tears pricked her eyes again. She took several moments to calm herself, before holding her head defiantly high and leaving the way she’d entered. 

“Well?” Lillian asked as her daughter emerged (a miracle she wasn’t hit in the head with the door.) “What did he say?” 

Lena’s mouth opened and closed a few times before words came out. “I...think he likes me,” she managed. “Where can I find Alexander Luthor? I must speak with him – now.” 

Alex and Nia escorted the Luthors back to chambers, while a serf named Winn had been sent to fetch Lex. From within the storm in her head, Lena realised she’d been returned to a different room. It seemed the first chamber had been a dressing room, used temporarily while Lena’s actual chambers were set up (a “simple” guest room fancier than any grand estate she’d seen in Xan.)

The bed was richer than the first, and the furniture elaborate, but this room contained a large, oak desk and a wall to wall bookcase, her collection unloaded. The mere scent of books was enough to comfort her, and though hers had been arranged at random – she’d have to sort them alphabetically and by subject – she managed to locate one of her favourite philosophy books by Michel De Montaigne. 

“What happened?” Lillian demanded. “Tell me everything.” 

What could she say? Even if she told the truth there was no way she’d be believed – the Emperor vs a nobleman’s bastard daughter. 

“Wait for his Holiness,” Lena sniped as much as she dared. 

When Lex finally arrived in his magnificent robe and pompous hat, Nia curtsied while Alex bent the knee. 

“My beautiful sister,” Lex cooed as he embraced her, “all grown up! Rao bless you, it’s been too long.” 

Lena wondered how much damnation she’d risk for beating a holy man with a philosophy book. 

“Leave us,” Lillian ordered the women. 

Nia looked to Lena. 

“Please,” Lena asked gently, “wait outside. I’ll call for you shortly.”

As soon as the door closed, she whirled on her brother with such an expression that he actually retreated back. “Before you say anything-”

“You’d better be at peace with Rao, Alexander Luthor, because you’re about to join him!” 

“ Lena!” Lillian gasped. “Control yourself!”

“‘Galant,’ ‘hero,’ ‘seeks spiritual counsel on a daily basis’?!” she snarled at Lex, advancing on him so forcefully he retreated further. 

“He does!” 

“Why? Because he seeks forgiveness for being an arrogant, sexist, bastard? You-”

A sudden, sharp blow flew in from the sidelines and struck Lena to the floor. Lillian’s handprint burnt bright red on her face. “Lena Luthor,” she warned, spitting venom and fire, “he is our emperor, ordained by Rao, and you shall watch your mouth before you join your gutter whore of a mother in the eternal fires.” 

Lex helped his sister stand, only to be shoved away. “You knew,” she snarled. “You knew what sort of man he is, and you still set me to marry him?” 

“He is a troubled soul,” Lex professed, “and he needs my guidance and your hunger for knowledge to guide him. Together we will make him the greatest emperor this land has ever known. He will be Saved, and Krypton with it. There’s nobody else I would trust for this kind of job.” 

“You don’t have to marry him and bear his children!” 

“And with it, you will be Saved as well.” 

Lena’s blood ran cold. “I won’t do it.” 

Lillian didn’t so much as move an eyebrow, eyes fiercer than the raging ocean on the horizon. “This is not your choice to be made. Tomorrow you will marry Mon-El IV and be Queen of Krypton. 

“Destiny brought you into this family, and you will pay your dues for the privilege. Nobody likes those they marry, but we do it anyway. How you choose to embrace the matter will dictate the rest of your life, so I suggest you get that little serf girl to paint your face and teach you to smile because tomorrow is your wedding day.”


	5. Bastard to Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As pointed out: 
> 
> cerocerobye on Chapter 19Wed 03 Mar 2021 08:29AM EST  
> Hey, I like it. Even how crude it is that Lena has to go through the havoc of that time  
> The only thing I don't like is brainy being a court simpleton. Although if lex is his circle, I'm not surprised. Poor, he has so much to give.
> 
> Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer on Chapter 19Wed 03 Mar 2021 03:55PM EST  
> I'll be totally honest I stopped watching the show at the Sanvers engagement bc I wanted happy queers. The only things I know of after is via tumblr. I knew Brainy as a character but in no connection to 'Dox.' I Googled 'Superman Villians' and that was a name that came up. When I read comics I'm more Batwoman, Batman, Promethea, Buffy, Gotham, things like that. I'm gonna make a note and go back and change the name to anything else.
> 
> Moving forward, and corrected, formerly 'Dox' is now 'Miller.'
> 
> @cerocerobye thank you so much for pointing it out.

The morning began horrifically and only worsened. Woken before dawn to be dressed and bathed, Lena couldn’t find the strength to eat, despite Nia’s coaxing. She’d never liked Kryptonese food, and now had no heart to try, instead giving it to staff when nobody was looking. Alex had witnessed this and remained silent, though smiling slightly. 

Nia had such a way with makeup that Lillian’s mark was all but gone, and Lena made a mental note to have the girl instructed in painting. 

The Captain and the lady-in-waiting were the only two permitted entrance without knocking when alone, and she encouraged them to speak as they wished. However this new freedom would take an adjustment. Both knew where the handprint came from, but could do little to help – neither a serf nor a captain were fit to challenge the archbishop or empress’s mother. 

Lena sought solace in her books, pouring through sciences and philosophy, and craved companionship. Nia, in all her heart and strength, was still illiterate, as most were, and she didn’t wish to embarrass or belittle her. 

Alex entered looking visibly uncomfortable. “My lady, Archbishop Luthor and Minister Miller are here to see you.” 

Not yet in her wedding dress but a simple purple gown, Lena had no patience for visitors. “They can speak to me at the wedding, or welcome to take my place if it fancies them.” 

“I’m sorry,” Alex pressed, seeming genuine, “but this...can’t wait.”

“Very well, send them in.”

Nia tensed minutely as the men entered, busying herself with cleaning while watching her lady from her peripheral. Alex remained in the room and shut the door behind her, both comforting and worrying the future empress.

“Lena,” Lex drawled happily, enveloping his sister in a hug (who made no effort to return it,) “congratulations. Oh, by Rao, I thought this day would never come.” 

“Why’re you here, Lex?” 

“Empress,” Miller greeted, “you’re a vision and not even in your gown yet.” 

“Why’re you here?” Lena repeated. 

The men exchanged a look, Lex blushing slightly. “You’re to be married today-”

“I’m aware.” 

“Such spirit,” Miller chuckled. “I see it runs in the family. Empress, as you’re to be married, a holy union as it is-”

Lena remained unimpressed. Alex and Nia had gravitated towards each other, hovering on the outskirts of her vision. 

“-But to a man ordained by Rao himself, I’m afraid it must be verified that you’re...intact.”

Perhaps by sleep deprivation, she frowned slightly. “I'm sorry?”

Lex flushed again. “Whether your barricades have been breached.”

Nia shuffled in humbly to whisper it in her ear. 

Mortification hit first, then disgust. “Absolutely not!”

“It _is_ the way of things,” Miller explained, “a tradition for royalty.”

“You aren’t touching me.” 

“I imagine you will find the thought more comforting as you learn its customary to be done by the Archbishop-”

Wild panic struck the girl so that Alex instinctively touched her holster. 

“-but given the... _nature_ of the situation, I thought it best I offer _my_ services.” 

“How kind,” Lena snarled. 

She looked to Alex and Nia but quickly wavered. Nia was a serf, and however Alex wished, she would be easily outranked, and Lena imagined the Captain’s superiors would have less qualms about holding her down should she refuse.

Swallowing her revulsion, she had Nia fetch a shot of vodka while Alex escorted Lex out. 

“Lay down,” Miller ordered, barely withholding his glee.

Nia held Lena’s hand and didn’t let go. 

–––

The morning failed to improve from there, smothered in an elaborate gown with enough jewellery to sink her to the bottom of the ocean. With much of the ceremony experienced outside her body, Lena remembered little of it, perhaps Rao’s one mercy. 

“You may kiss the bride,” required an actual kiss, and was one of the worst Lena had had since she was a young teenager. 

The heavy crown pressed all the pins in her hair hard into her skull, though at least the pain was a distraction. She’d woken that morning as Lionel Luthor’s bastard daughter, and by lunch was Queen of Krypton.


	6. Spun Sunlight

While Lena longed to drink the day into oblivion, it would only hurt her reputation in the long-run, though Nia had been given a flask for her uniform skirt for emergencies.

Apparently the entire nation was both in attendance at the wedding, and every individual wanted to speak with her. Few had anything to offer beyond congratulations, flattery, and what her husband deemed ‘women talk’ – ladies begging and probing her for the latest fashions of Xan. For once, as much as possible she allowed Lillian to answer for her, keeping Nia and Alex at close range. 

Yet one man gave her hope. “Empress, General J’Onnz,” Mon-El introduced, “my number two in the war against Daxam. He carries out my strategy on the field.”

“And too, I expect your bravery and valour,” Lena smiled tightly, doubting her husband would know one end of a horse from the other. 

“Empress,” J’Onnz bowed low, “your brother has spoken highly of your intellect. He speaks the truth.” 

A serious man with kind eyes, she immediately drew closer to hear him in earnest. Omitting her beauty entirely – hearing little else all day – Lena could’ve hugged him. “Your reputation precedes you. I witnessed the wake of Erkol battle.” 

“Oh,” Mon-El commented. “Did they look happy?”

“They seemed scattered and badly wounded,” Lena explained, studying the General.

“Shit,” he mused, “maybe we lost.”

 _Your father perished in it, you imbecile._ “My family owes your troops their life,” Lena pressed earnestly; ignoring her husband, “as does all of Krypton. Please, tell me of the frontlines, of your men, what can be done?” 

“Empress,” Lillian hissed as she closed in behind. “This is hardly the time or place.” 

J’Onnz looked to Lena for permission, who gave it eagerly. “The heart of Krypton is not owed to me alone. As much is gifted by every man and boy in the trenches and on the fields.” 

Lena knew full well how many conscripts had been barely old enough to shave when sent to their deaths. “I ache to repay all they have given. Their names will be remembered, and I seek lasting change, to better the lives of those fighting, and those unable. Every life is sacred.” 

The man’s lips parted slightly. “Empress, I believe Rao has given us a deliverance in you, and I would be honoured to hear all your thoughts as long as I am able.” 

“’Dained by God,” Mon-El decided, “I must’ve done right in choosing her.” 

“Of course, sir,” J’Onnz assured politely.

–––

“Alex?” Lena wondered when she had a rare moment to breathe. 

“My lady?”

“How many weapons are you carrying?” 

The redhead visibly tensed, blocking Lena from sight, double-checking the scene. “Do you spy danger?” 

Lena wouldn’t admit to checking out her bodyguard (better than her husband, in all honesty) though she did actually feel safer. “I’m just curious. How many?” 

Alex checked their immediate range. “Are you interested in becoming a soldier?” 

For the first time all day, Lena actually smiled. “Care to change places?” 

She leaned in slightly. “Not for all the money in Krypton.” 

Nia held her breath to avoid giggling. 

“Gun in my holster, dagger at my waist, and a switchblade up my sleeve.”

“What, no rifle?” came a laugh. 

Lena Kieran Luthor, frequently deemed pragmatic at best and cold at worst, cared little for romance, finding the embellishments of the subject more frustrating than whimsical. Having too often read of people left breathless by great beauty, she’d never expected the contrary, much less experienced. Within an instant, at the woman standing before her, it seemed every lace of Lena’s corset had snapped in relief. 

Hair of spun sunlight in an intricate braid, decorated with golden pins, draped over a shoulder to her waist. A gown of swirling blues paled before her eyes. While the ladies of the courts were petite and soft, having never worked a day, this one stood tall as stone among cotton. The dress couldn’t hide the broad shoulders and defined arms, perhaps even emphasising them. 

“I thought we agreed on no shop talk at formal events,” the woman chuckled, showing off the tiny crinkle of one eyebrow.

“It doesn’t count if I’m working,” Alex refuted. 

Nia, seeming ever at the rescue, lightly elbowed Alex in the back. “ _Captain_.”

“Oh, sh- _My apologies._ My lady, allow me to introduce my sister, Kara Danvers.”

“Empress Lena,” Kara offered gently, a strong and callused hand took Lena’s and pressed it to her lips, grazing the wedding ring, “the honour is immense. I offer to rescue you from my sister’s shop talk, if need be – protection from your bodyguard.”

A lapse in professionalism, Alex kicked her sister discreetly in the shin. 

Lena actually smiled. “I need no rescue, Lady Danvers, I assure you.”

“I’ll never underestimate you again,” Kara vowed easily. 

A sudden presence behind Lena had the entire group snap to attention, and it took no guesses. “Empress,” Mon-El interrupted shamelessly, “you disrespect the courts, huddled in the corner with the commoners.” 

“Your Highness,” Kara implored quickly, “the fault is mine. I simply envy you – your wife is Rao’s blessing on the courts – I couldn’t resist a moment of her time.” 

Lena flushed scarlet but had quickly learned her husband’s weakness for flattery. “Yes, yes. However, I’m a charitable man and you’re in luck, dear wife, as I’m also the finest dancer in the court.” 

Before she could answer, he took her by the arm and led her to the middle of the room. To her utter humiliation, her husband had the grace of a drunken donkey. As the courts joined them, she couldn’t help watching for the Lady Danvers, and it seemed she wasn’t alone in this. Both men and women watched the blue gown and sunlight braid twirl bout the floor, some with hunger, some with envy, all with admiration.


	7. Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As pointed out: 
> 
> cerocerobye on Chapter 19Wed 03 Mar 2021 08:29AM EST  
> Hey, I like it. Even how crude it is that Lena has to go through the havoc of that time  
> The only thing I don't like is brainy being a court simpleton. Although if lex is his circle, I'm not surprised. Poor, he has so much to give.
> 
> Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer on Chapter 19Wed 03 Mar 2021 03:55PM EST  
> I'll be totally honest I stopped watching the show at the Sanvers engagement bc I wanted happy queers. The only things I know of after is via tumblr. I knew Brainy as a character but in no connection to 'Dox.' I Googled 'Superman Villians' and that was a name that came up. When I read comics I'm more Batwoman, Batman, Promethea, Buffy, Gotham, things like that. I'm gonna make a note and go back and change the name to anything else.
> 
> Moving forward, and corrected, formerly 'Dox' is now 'Miller.'
> 
> @cerocerobye thank you so much for pointing it out.

By evening, the elaborate banquet lined the hall, and while Lena had no appetite, she couldn’t help calculate how much food was wasted or unappreciated while a kingdom – her kingdom, now – starved and struggled. She made mental notes of ways to sneak some aside for Nia. The Emperor’s dog, sitting at their feet, was fed better than the serfs. 

Lillian and Lex were seated a few paces down, emphatically chatting with the lords and ladies of the court. Lena had never seen her step-mother smile so much, hadn’t thought it possible.

“This fucking duck is delicious,” Mon-El deemed, disrupting her thoughts. “Do you not find it?”

She smiled tightly. “Indeed.”

“Ever eaten duck as good as this, Luthor?” he asked Lex. 

“I have not.”

“Ever eaten pussy?” 

Lena choked on her drink and the nearby court burst into obligatory laughter. Lillian shot her a look, promising death if she spoke up, Empress or no.

Lena in no way thought of a particular golden braid, of course, or blue eyes shining in ecstasy. 

“I have not,” Lex admitted flatly. 

Though Lena knew him to have known women, she’d no doubt that was true, as it would require him to care for a woman’s opinion.

“Oh, Rao is a cruel master,” Mon-El sighed. 

_Indeed._

–––

As Nia helped Lena undress by evening, the lady wept, as she knew what approached. “Perhaps I could cut my leg,” Lena mused desperately, “say I have my blood?” 

“Men have few barriers,” Alex explained as she checked her weapons. “I’m sorry. It is terrible, but perhaps he will be quick if you aid him.” 

“Aid him?” Lena sniffed. “I could barely touch him!” 

Nia sat her down, cleaning most of her makeup off. “Speak gently, praise him, pretend, and ask he take you from behind-”

“That’s so degrading!” 

“But you won’t have to see him.” 

"...Perhaps.”

Alex chewed her lip slightly. “May I be blunt?” 

“Please,” she begged. 

“Have you ever lain with a man?” 

The empress flushed from head to toe. “Minister Miller found me to be-”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Lena looked helplessly between them and around the room. 

“We’re alone,” Alex assured her with surprising tenderness. “Anything you say with us remains with us.” 

The empress took a slow breath. “I have not- known a man.” 

Nia squeezed her in a tight hug, nearly pushing Lena to tears again. Alex enveloped them both. For several moments, the three remained as such. 

“You’re not alone in this palace,” Nia told her seriously. “Krypton has great love throughout history. It’s only been within the last few generations it’s been suppressed.” 

“It’s frowned upon in Xan the same way,” Lena confirmed.

“Despite the pressures of your brother on the church,” Alex said, “many ladies of the court lay with women, myself included.” 

Lena’s jaw dropped slightly. “You?” 

“Indeed. You aren’t alone in this castle,” she stressed again. 

“I can’t have a child with him,” Lena confessed desperately, hands trembling slightly. “I- not now.” 

Nia hurried to the fruit bowl on the dresser and handed Alex a lemon, who cut the top off it. “Put this inside you,” she instructed. “It will kill his seed before it reaches your womb.”

Helping her lift her skirts, Nia aided Lena in the efforts – uncomfortable as she sat down on the bed, trying to appear eager – as Alex listened hard to the approaching footsteps. “It's him.”

Nia kissed her cheek. “Good luck.” 

Mon-El barged in, almost hitting Alex in the face with the door. “Both of you, out.” 

The door didn’t shut after them, instead Gregor leaning in the doorway, his back to them, sipping his drink. “Hmm? Ducks?” he mused to the Emperor.

“He was saying it will bring the ducks to you,” Mon-El carried on as he marched toward Lena, “instead of you having to find them."

“My dearest Mon-El,” Lena attempted, tucking her hair behind her ear though her fingers shook.

“But then he does it,” he went on, “he blows this caller.” He grabbed her by the knees and tugged her forward sharply, her back hitting the mattress with a poof. “I don't believe it, and then‐ Empress‐” he noted quickly as he thrust himself inside her. “The fucking ducks come from everywhere, but not like four or five, like, fifty.” 

It hurt terribly, drying thrusting into her. She tipped her head back to avoid his face, and hoped it would be quick. 

“That's hilarious,” Gregor went on, mimicking the duck call.

“Truly comical,” Mon-El laughed without breaking stride. “Fucking ducks everywhere, and we all just started running for cover, firing like crazy, ducks are dropping, people are screaming.”

“Oh, I'd love to see it.” 

He thrusted faster. “Well, we'll get- him to do- it again. No, but this time, we will‐”

Lena squeezed her eyes shut as he finished. 

“We'll watch from the balcony,” Mon-El continued as soon as he could speak, “no danger to us.” He buttoned his pants and placed Lena’s dress back down. “Marvellous,” he smiled at her. “Let us hope my seed has found purchase. Have a pleasant evening, Empress. Gregor, shall we crack that new vodka from Argo? Huzzah.”

And out he walked. 

“Nia!” Lena called, trying to keep her voice from breaking. 

The serf girl hurried in. “My lady?”

“Run a bath. Now. As hot as you can make it.”

–––

“What am I to do?” Lena asked quietly as Nia helped wash her hair. Alex stood in the bathing room with them, guarding the door at the Empress’ request. “Shackled to a madman as his painted whore.” She couldn’t even care she was naked before them. “I can’t be touched by him again.”

Nia handed her another shot of vodka. “It is the curse of women, along with blood and childbirth.” 

“I am a prisoner here.”

A silent moment passed, and Alex left her post, brow furrowed deeply. She looked deep into Lena’s eyes. “It is not a lineage.”

Between vodka and shock, Lena’s mind had clouded. “What?”

“Krypton,” Alex explained, “it does not go to an heir if there is not one.” 

The world fell away.

“If the emperor dies, it goes to the empress.” 

Lena’s jaw dropped. “What...what are you saying?” 

“You're also not the only unhappy one,” Nia uttered. “There are men here, unhappy, who are looking for a leader.”

“And is there one?” Lena asked hopefully.

Alex didn’t blink. “I hope I am looking at her.”

Galaxies birthed and died. As wild as the Krypton seas, as the stones she kissed, a chilled determination trickled through Lena’s being and over her face. Her chin lifted in strength. “Huzzah,” she whispered.


	8. The Plan

Unable to sleep, Lena had spent the night hunched over her desk while Nia slept in the bed, frantically scribbling what she knew could have her executed. True, she didn’t want to be alone, but a formal request of company kept Nia from sleeping in the serf’s quarters. 

In rare moments of peace, void of memories of Mon-El and his cologne riddled body above her, Lena couldn’t help think of the sunlit braid, those piercing blue eyes. 

_ “Many ladies of the court lay with women,”  _ Alex had said. Could such things apply to Lena? She’d no doubt of her husband’s affairs, probably many. Yet she was Empress, the church held women to a different standard, particularly those who fancied their own sex. 

Her thoughts were only interrupted as Nia roused. For a moment, the girl appeared mournful, yet brightened quickly. She kissed Lena’s cheek before departing to fetch breakfast, coaxing the woman to eat. Alex joined them shortly, long red hair twisted into a knot with a string of braids across the side.

“It should be swift,” Nia mused over coffee, “and painful.” 

Lena looked up from her workbook. “I seek to end bloodshed, not entice it.”

“What you’re discussing is revolution,” Alex countered. “There has never been one in all of history without it.” 

Looking over her notes, Lena gnawed her lip. “So far, I have: a treaty, paramount, as well as food, education, and women’s rights.” 

“You aim too high,” Nia interjected. “‘You will have bread, your women not be raped, and your sons not marched to their death,’ will be enough.” 

“His death will be a last resort, however much I wish for it. I strive for power and his imprisonment. Then perhaps death. Power first.” 

“You’ll need allies,” Alex told her, sharpening her blade on the whetstone fixed in the base of her boot. “A serf and a captain aren’t enough.” 

“General J’Onnz is a man of honour and compassion, can he be swayed?” 

“J’Onnz is a great man but you aim too high too quickly. You’re new to these courts and have no allies. In order to gain power you must befriend those who hold it. It begins with the ladies.” She glanced at Nia. “They are the voices in their husband’s ears, and their lovers, and know more than most. If you seek peace, information is the surest route.” 

Lena’s head lulled back in fatigue. “Must I?” 

Nia rose and straightened her skirts. “Empress, revolution waits for no man. It begins with breakfast with your husband. You must appear as a contented wife. You will whisper change in his ear, so that those you seek to help are not executed in the crossfire.” 

Lena sat up in her chair and set her shoulders. “Revolution begins with that pillow.” When handed it over, she screamed into it for several moments, then lowered it calmly. “I require makeup, coffee, and vodka.”


	9. Revolution Begins in Whispers

Alex escorted Lena through the palace, which bustled with life. The sea of people parted for them like gravity, bowing and praising as they went. She thought she’d never get used to it. Beyond the banquet hall, in a heavily guarded portion of the palace, was the emperor’s chambers. While her guard could say nothing before her superior’s, Lena knew the supportive was in there.

Straightening her shoulders, she thought of Nia, of the serfs, the soldiers in the trenches, of Krypton, and entered.

Mon-El was slumped back in a chair at a table full of luxuries, arm over his face. A serving girl and serf stood quietly in the corner.

“I am not to be disturbed,” he groaned at his intruder. “I will cut your throat.”

“Perhaps you ought to kiss it,” Lena offered gently. Perhaps a lifetime of surviving Lillian had merit.

His arm lifting, red eyes blinking several moments before recognition. “Oh, hello. What do you want?”

“Maid,” she asked the serving girl, “bring the emperor two raw eggs, tomato juice, salt, pepper, and a jigger of vodka. Shake and pour it into a glass.”

The girl disappeared out the door behind her.

“I like to be alone in the morning,” Mon-El grumbled.

“I'm sure you did,” Lena stated, with no follow up, seating herself beside him.

The boy served her tea, which she indulged for appearances, as the serving girl returned, handing Lena a glass with a curtsy.

“Thank you.” She handed it to her husband. “My father liked to imbibe heavily. This was his solution to the morning troubles.”

Mon-El cringed. “It appears someone has already drunk it.”

“Trust me,” Lena crooned, “would I lie to you?”

“It has vodka in it?”

“Of course.”  _ Perhaps I ought to have asked for poison and be done with it. _

Shrugging, he downed the concoction. “Huzzah! I like it. You are a witch.” He looked her up and down. “Last night was stunning, was it not?”

“Words cannot describe.”

“Are you with child?”

“I am not.”

He frowned. “Hmm. Perhaps we will try again tonight.”

Lena’s tea threatened to return to the cup. “What is on the day’s agenda? I have many thoughts on the war-”

“I am to attend a meeting with General J’Oonz about our battle with those inbred Daxamites.”

Despite the slander, Lena’s heart jumped. “Marvellous! Together we will-”

“Together?” he laughed. “No. There is no ‘together.’ Women do not belong in the war room.”

She almost broke her tea cup, instead setting it down gently. “Of course,” she forced out. “How foolish of me.”

“All is well, you are new and will soon adjust.”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Mon-El had the boy fetch it. In strode a petite women of voluminous skirts and hair twisted up in some of the most beautiful jewellery Lena had ever seen. Despite the loveliness of her features, there was a stern expression that reminded Lena of Lillian, though sans the cruelty.

“Your Grace,” the woman greeted with a slight curtsy of status. “Empress.”

“Madame Catherine Grant, as summoned,” Mon-El introduced. “One of the leading ladies of the court, and, I have decided, your friend. Catherine, take the empress to the other ladies to the gardens, and speak of hats.” He contemplated that for a moment. “It may indeed be pleasant to have a wife.”

“Yes,” she agreed for once in truth, as she followed the petite woman from the room, “it would be.”

Closely followed by Alex at a distance, the courtesans strolled through the palace, and Lena found herself flustered before this small woman.

“Madame Grant-”

“Cat, please,” she corrected. “I thought it might benefit you to have a lady of status to watch your back, lest you find a knife in it by another.”

The Empress blinked in surprise, though grateful to not be addressed by title. “I have Captain Danvers for protection.”

“Danvers is a decorated soldier, I shan’t deny, but her skills with people are lacking.”

Lena could feel Alex’s scowl in her back.

“Most of the women have tongues in the shape of a cat‐o'‐nine‐tails, they pose a much more discreet threat.”

Having been raised by Lillian, she knew this well.


	10. Painted Ladies

The palace gardens, Lena believed, were something of a fairytale. Say what she would of Kryptonese food, Kryptonese flowers were a precious kind of magic. A thousand colours and forms, Lena had to pause the stroll to gaze in wonder. They surrounded her like a painting come to life, leaves rustling in the wind along with her skirts and parasol.

“These are nothing like home,” she gasped, smiling in earnest.

“Xan’s flowers,” Cat reminded her, “are built differently, fit to withstand bitter frosts and long winters.” She looked the Empress over. “They are, in some ways, stronger than anything found here. They shall survive anything.”

For the briefest of moments, Lena wondered if she knew, and made care not to look to Alex. “Xan life is a miracle in itself,” she deflected. “Tell me of the courts ladies, please.”

“You’re well brought up, I see,” Cat told her as they continued on, “though I suggest you keep your manners in check around such women.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are their Empress. You are above them.”

“I-”

“You are above them,” Cat repeated without breaking stride. “They are your subjects. You need not ask, you order. You, my dear, are their leader. Act like it. The trade of courts is secrets, and these women collectively hold them all. There is a ladder, for which you are the top, and it is a far fall, should you slip.”

Lena considered that sincerely, and held her head higher. “You give sage council,” she practiced, “and it shan’t be forgotten.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Cat’s mouth twitch into a smile.

–––

On the far end of the gardens was a lawn that stretched further than her estate in Xan. Small shading tents and tables had been erected with a variety of tea, treats, and drinks. A flurry of women had congregated, dressed their best in elegance and finery. Any one piece of jewellery would feed a serf family for a year. The combined servants and serving girls hovered nearby unless summoned. Lena was relieved to see Nia among them, who knew better than to smile or wave.

Once spotted approaching by the courtesans, all dresses swept the grass in a wide curtsy. “Oh, Empress! Empress, congratulations!” she heard over and over, her cheek kissed in every conceivable place, and ushered under the tent.

Lena’s stomach dropped as Lillian moved in to kiss her daughter’s head. “How radiant you look,” she sighed, maternal in a way Lena knew was an act. “How is your husband?”

 _You are above them._ “He is well. We had breakfast this morning before he met with General J’Onnz.”

All the ladies cooed, Lillian satisfied.

“Hats have just arrived from Xan!” one woman cried (quickly identified as their leader.) (You must know all the latest.)

“On...hats?” Lena wavered. Revolution begins in whispers. “I've never been much interested in hats. However, have any of you read the latest Rousseau, The Social Contract? I have a copy if you would like.”

From behind the crowd, Nia looked alarmed as the group stilled in confusion.

“A delightful jest,” Cat applauded quickly, “bravo!”

The ladies quickly joined in, and Lena could do little but go along with it.

“There is fresh champagne being set,” Lillian announced. “Shall we roll balls on the lawn?”

Cat continued to smile for appearances as she fell in step with the Empress while the ladies hurried for drinks. “They cannot read.”

Lena’s jaw dropped. “None of them?”

“Unfortunate, yes, but it is common. To them it seems dull – and time‐consuming. They find it more interesting, the art of the tongue. The latest is Captain Dostovey is seeing Lenka.”

“That is nice,” Lena managed.

“It is, unless you're his wife.”

“How is it that you read then?”

“My father was a scholar,” Cat explained, “a titan of Krypton’s printing press, and believed a world where women are uneducated is a waste.”

“A wise man.”

“Indeed. Your brother dislikes me for it a great deal for it.”

“Then it appears you and I are alike.”

Lena, who’d never been much for sports – at least not those permitted to women – had never played lawn bowls before. One attempt later, of rolling a coloured ball to a marked line, consider such a fact a blessing. “What happens now?” she asked, anticipating calculations or skill.

“Well,” Lillian explained pointedly, “they bring them back up, and then we do it all again. Such fun, yes?”

“I see. For how long?”

She raised a champagne flute to poisoned lips. “All afternoon.”

–––

“Empress,” Nia observed several rounds later, “you seem tired. Might I escort you to your chambers?”

“Indeed, I am,” the empress admitted gratefully, though to cover, added, “I suppose all brides are after their wedding night.”

“Nia, dear,” challenged Lady Svenska, who’d grown close to Lillian in shared malevolence, “you speak out of turn. You must wait for the empress or one of the ladies of court to address you.”

“You cannot just speak,” Lillian added. “The dog will wait for the master before he fetches, or he simply runs.”

Nia smiled sweetly. “You may rip my tongue from my foolish body, dear Lady, or try to, and we shall see what develops from there.”

Lena could have kissed the girl, though the group had grown dangerously focused.

“Remember your place, Nia,” Svenska warned.

The girl seemed to remember however Lena felt for her, she served the empress. “My apologies, ladies. Sometimes I...forget who I am.”

“Well, we are within our rights to whip you to remind you if needs be,” Lillian noted breezily.

“A bit harsh,” Cat defended pointedly. “Nia has apologised, are we are all reminded of where we stand. In time, she will adjust.” She looked to Lena, the only ally fit to speak. “Empress, would you like Nia to escort you to your apartments?”

“Indeed,” Lena decided before the mother. “Perhaps I shall see you later.”

“That is the beautiful thing, my dear,” Svenska smiled venomously. “You will see us every day now.”

–––

“They do not read!” Lena ranted incredulously within the safety of her chamber. “They do nothing but drink and- and _lawn bowl?_ No wonder they're cruel and vapid.” She turned to Nia, who’d made herself aimlessly busy. “Do you wish to explain the exchange on the lawn?”

“Not particularly,” the girl muttered.

The empress looked to the captain, who clearly knew, and back. “Do it anyway.”

Nia put down the makeup tray so hard it rattled slightly, before slumping miserably into the chair. “I was, until recently, a lady of the court.”

Lena’s eyes widened. “What?”

“He beat my servant, of which I didn’t agree, and so he made us all servants.”

“To...to humiliate you?” the woman gasped.

The serf’s eyes welled up, yet she wiped it away in defiance. “It was uncharacteristically clever of him. It serves as a standing warning to all the court, you could wake up tomorrow shovelling shit.”

The empress enveloped the girl. “You best be careful, then. If he beat your servant, he may see fit to beat you.” She looked to Alex. “You knew?”

“I asked her not to,” Nia admitted.

“Why?”

“I sought no pity. You are kind _because_ you are kind… I wanted your heart for mine as it is, not because it has been disgraced.”

Lena kissed her head. “I care for your heart as it is _your_ heart – Alex’s, too. Promise me you will be careful in public.”

“It is unfortunately not part of my nature. If you are a servant, your nature's not relevant, and your insolence will get you beaten. Though I shall try – for you.”

The empress smiled and drew the girl in again. “Inside, you are still a lady, albeit an angry one.”


	11. Hunter vs Huntress

“If you spy a rabbit,” Mon-El instructed Lena as they strolled, “point but do not yell.” 

It seemed a small army was required on their hunting trip, trailing behind them at a distance. Lena’s gown swept the grass as she walked beside her husband, hands clasped neatly behind her back. Knowing Nia’s truth had the Empress loathing her husband on a new level. It would be made right, she decided gravely, then offered her best smile. 

“It must be an enormous responsibility,” she asked him, “and honour to lead a country of such importance.”

He held his gun like a child’s toy. “It's actually not that hard.”

“The decisions must weigh heavily.”

Mon-El paused a moment to look her over. “You are impressed with me. I knew it was merely a matter of time. And, no. Not really. I was born to rule. Rabbit!” His shot rang in her ears and missed the poor creature by several paces. “Damn!” 

She watched as the rabbit darted off, and felt akin to it. “I would like to be useful to Krypton, to help its greatness.” 

He smiled warmly, which caught her off guard. “You will bear my heirs. There is no higher use. You are blessed. Are you with child yet?” 

Since you asked this morning? “I am not.” 

The emperor considered this again. “I must empty myself into you again soon- Rabbit!” Another shot fired and missed. “Fucker!”

Lena couldn’t help but note he fired one gun much like his other, and it pleased her. Perhaps she would not get pregnant and he would deem her barren and stop trying. 

“I thought perhaps I could help in education,” she went on. “There's an explosion of ideas in France.”

“And an explosion of syphilis in Xan.”

“What?”

He rolled his eyes. “It is a joke. You are slow of mind and wit. Did you roll coloured balls with the ladies?”

“Mm. Briefly.”

“It is a lark. What fun.” He lowered his gun and turned to her. “We  _ are _ , in fact, modernising in a great way. I have banned beards for men over fifty. It is a better look. The old Krypton beards look like men who’ve refused to cross over, and it will not do.”

“Beards,” Lena repeated, fighting instinct. “Yes, indeed. My question is, can I fund a small school?”

He groaned low. “Will it stop you talking about dull things?”

“It will.”

“Then you may do it. Talk to Bettina for funds. There’s an old stable on grounds.”

Continuing the act, she bounced excitedly and threw her arms around the emperor, kissing his cheek. “Perfect! Thank you, husband! We will paint it. Brighten it up. Some chairs will be brought over from the palace. I have books of my own but will require enough to distribute. Where is the library?”

“The what?”


	12. Plan B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its taking ages but I promise two more segments and Kara arrives. I just wanted to establish a somewhat decent story because it'll be a LONG fic. 
> 
> I'm sorry for publishing in such short bursts, but it's kind of the only way I can publish. My OCD/autism is genuinely bad, and otherwise I spend too long obsessing and revising. I've tried writing other fics before (in the 'finish complete, long chapter before publishing' and it just didn't work for me. I'm hoping what comes out is better than nothing.

The Emperor’s fingers drummed against the throne as he had Lex hauled before it. He stumbled to his feet, fixing his robes in indignation. J’Onnz, Gregor, and an assortment of powerful players waited uncomfortably. 

“We shall discuss whether or not to kill the empress,” Mon-El ordered casually as he sipped his wine. 

The court stilled. 

“Your grace?” Lex blurted, forgetting himself. 

Mon-El glared over his goblet at the Archbishop. “ _You. You_ said she was the one. You said you'd seen it – your fucking visions, your job. You said she'd make me happy.”

“I...”

“Do I _look_ happy?” A terrible scowl had settled. “She is a misery at court, worse in bed, and is a strange creature who I sense is, at times, laughing at me.” When his audience remained in baffled silence, he persisted. “I was thinking a small carriage accident, a suitable period of mourning, and onward to a new choice.”

“Sire-”

“Luthor, you will not be involved, simply present, to suffer as I have as you were abysmally fucking wrong, and tell that to Rao.”

“Emperor,” Lex pressed, “she's going through some transition. We should help her with compassionate‐”

“One more word from your tongue unless ordered and I’ll have J’Onnz remove it.” He looked to the General. “Thoughts?”

“I think not, sir,” the man advised evenly. “It would look bad in Krypton’s image, and be whispered at courts both within and beyond our borders.” 

“No one at court likes her,” Mon-El countered impatiently, fingers drumming faster, “except apparently you disloyal fucks. If we shan’t kill her, you need to fix her. She never stops talking, she talks of _books,_ and in bed-”

“Emperor,” Luthor begged, “I need not-”

He waved a hand. “J’Onnz, bring me Luthor’s tongue.”

The General had scarcely brandished his dagger before the archbishop fell to his knees. “Please! Please, sire, by Rao-”

The Emperor began to snigger. “Oh, your face! A lark, yes?” 

“I- Y-Yes, sire, very amusing.” He discreetly wiped his nose on his robes. 

“Her cunt is dry and she does nothing with it. Send one of the ladies to talk with her. Lillian or Svenka.” He glared at Lex. “I expect you to fix her. In a stroke of genius and compassion, I have temporarily solved your fuck-ups. I figure this school of hers will shut her up a while.” 

A look was cast about the room. 

“What?” 

Gregor turned to Lex as J’Onnz mouth set to a grim line. “Go on, man of Rao, tell him.” 

The Archbishop stepped toward, spying the General warily. “Yes, I have caught wind of this school. I confess this is not the first time the empress has spoke of this.” 

Mon-El’s scowl deepened. 

“I-It troubled me as deeply then as it does now. My sister is a brilliant mind but needs the church's - _your_ – guidance on the kingdom. She’s yet to learn Krypton ways. I'd like to approve the texts she wishes to teach. She may bring new ideas from the West.”

“How so?” 

“The French are affecting Krypton’s thinking in a distressing way. In an astounding way that blows light into our age. The fact that she deems women will be part of this, as I believe, is a stunning contradiction of-”

The goblet paused on route to lips. “Women? What?”


	13. The Monster

The smoke from the burning old barn wafted through the open palace windows. Flames could be seen from Lena’s apartments. Her jaw and the books from her hands hit the floor. The empress, dignity be damned, almost tripped over her skirts as she ran through the palace, all life vaulting from her way.

Alex scrambled to keep up. “Lena, what is it?”

But no answer came until they reached the emperor’s chambers. “Stay.”

“I-”

Lena whirled on the captain in such a fury that the redhead went still, thinking the coup to beginning right then and there. She almost offered her blade.

The empress flung the door open with such force it cracked into the wall behind it. “They burned down my school!” she screamed.

Mon-El looked up from the bed, as did the woman beneath him. Lena’s eyes almost fell out of her head. The emperor calmly buttoned his pants as the woman pulled down her dress and excused herself.

“Michelle,” he explained. “Lovely girl. Good mouth.” He straightened his shirt and sat on the end of the bed. “Care to lay with your husband?”

“Soldiers burnt down my school!” she cried, flushing red. “You must seek justice. Wreak havoc upon them!”

“You did not say this school was for girls.”

“Women here cannot read!”

“And they shall not,” Mon-El informed her evenly. “Women are for seeding, not reading.”

The colour that had blossomed in her cheeks drained. “You gave the order.”

“I did.”

“You are disgusting! I  _ despise _ you.”

“Don’t lie to me again!”

“I didn’t lie!” Lena hissed. “I sought to bring education and culture to this gilded cage!”

“The world is as it is because I rule it, and as I’m ordained by Rao,  _ I think I’m doing a fucking good job of it!” _

A moment passed in silence, and Lena knew she would have to kill him. He wouldn’t change, or give her room to. One of them would die in this palace, only a matter of who first and when. “I cannot be happy here,” Lena uttered desperately.

“I'm not asking you that,” Mon-El told her as he poured another drink. “I'm asking you to pretend. You are the only person who has not loved me. It is inconceivable to me and says nothing good about you.”

“If you had shown me an  _ ounce _ of kindness-”

“I’ve given you a friend and my cock, what more could you need?”

“My heart is breaking.” She didn’t know if she could kill another, pleading for another way. “Just let me go home, please.”

“That's not going to happen. You’ve no more home, and your family is here. What would you go to? I mean, you know your problem? You have no idea how lucky you are.”

“Soldiers are  _ dying,  _ because of  _ you _ . Serfs beaten daily. You could stop that. If you would just read my books with me, these ideas that are sweeping through Xan – justice, humanity, every man a valued soul. We could rule Krypton in a different manner‐”

“I rule. You serve. Is it that difficult to understand?” He stepped in. “What happened to that happy little girl who offered me her heart?”

“She died.”

A smile quirked. “Seems overly dramatic. I am mostly kind to you. Do I beat you?”

“I suffer the blows of your disdain.”

Mon-El considered this, placing his drink on the mantle. “It's not the same as actual blows, though, is it?” He punched her so hard in the stomach she crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, fire spreading through her torso. “Well, compare, and get back to me. I do not need a wife with a poisonous mouth and a dry cunt. I will shut you up at my pleasure.”

“You will try and fail,” she wheezed defiantly.

“You will be happy,” he informed her icily. “You will die here in content old age, having given me many hours of pleasure and service, and many heirs. Boys, preferably. I do have a temper and some rage. You cannot cross me. Especially not in front of others, or you will pay. Endlessly.” He stepped around her and paused at the door. “And you will never win. You'll just be in pain.” He broke no stride on the way out. “You may enter,” he told Alex, “I’m done with her.”


	14. Sow Thy Seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OUR GIRL ARRIVES NEXT CHAPTER!

The breakfast consisted of silence, Mon-El speaking only to bark orders at staff while Lena pushed food about her plate, leaning over a book with an appetite only for the latter. The atmosphere had been disinterested on one part and sullen on the other, so when Mon-El spontaneously announced, “I’ve arranged you a lover,” Lena choked on coffee. 

Considering they were the only two in the room beyond staff, he must be talking to her. She wiped her lips on a napkin, eyeing him suspiciously. “Excuse me?” 

“You're a miserable, scowling cunt in the courts,” he mused, “and I’ve been informed by Lillian that such behaviour among the ladies is becoming conta-gis.” 

“Do you mean ‘contagious’?” she asked carefully, still reeling. There was no sense looking to the servants for help, they were as powerless as she.

“My point exactly – this arrogant... _bookish-ness_ of yours won’t do either.” 

Beneath the table, her hand went white around a butter knife. “It should help if the ladies of the court could read,” she bristled carefully, wrestling the hot lump of rage in her stomach. “You burned down my school.” 

“More to the point,” Mon-El continued obliviously, as in all things, “this bitch of an attitude won’t do. So, I’ve arranged you a lover, of my own choosing, of course. A Danvers, of course. Legendary fuckers – literally.”

“My Captain?!” 

“The other one,” he clarified. “I’ve sent for Kara Danvers, a royal consort. You met her at the wedding. A golden tongue in and out of the bedroom, I’m told.”

Lena’s head spun. “But- Lex- I mean, Archbishop Luthor-”

“I am ordained by Rao, am I not?”

 _Disdained._ “Yes?”

“Luthor serves Rao, so Luthor serves me. I don't give a shit who or what you are. You’ve resisted my charms, though thankfully as long you sew my seed, charm is irrelevant. So perhaps the fairer sex will make you tolerable company, and won't get you pregnant. You will be sufficiently fucked until you can neither walk or scowl, and be grateful to your husband for the lengths I go to for your happiness.” 

_Kara Danvers? Kara is a consort?_ Charge or not, she feared Alex might kill her if she even smiled at her sister.

“I don’t want a lover.” Her corset grew tighter with each breath.

“Perhaps I’m unclear: what you want is irrelevant. It is your job to make me happy, to love me, as the entire courts do, and yet you do not, so the fault is yours. You ought to show some gratitude for a change. I’m sick of watching your face dragging on the corners of the dance floor.” 

“Perhaps that was because you struck it.” The bruise had been hidden by makeup but not removed.

He huffed like a petulant child. “ _I_ am looking to move forward and yet _you_ are dragging on who did what–”

“That you punched me, and burnt my school down.” 

Watching him wave a silencing hand, she itched to bite it until she tasted blood. “I see we’re going in circles, and I’m tired of your braying.” He threw down his napkin, whistled for the dog, and stopped as he reached her. 

Lena drew back involuntarily.

“The Danvers girl will be arriving in your chambers by midday,” he informed her. “Have yourself cleaned up and presentable, and for God’s sake, smile.” He stood over her expectantly. “Are you forgetting something?” When she didn’t respond, he rolled his eyes. “‘Thank you, husband, for your consideration, impressive good looks, and massive cock.’” 

Lena couldn’t help it. Her birth mother had once told her there was a fire within her that no hurricane could smother. She sat up straighter. “Thank you, husband, for your contagion, impressive good locks, and massive clock. Was that it?” 

She could’ve sworn she heard a servant snigger but didn’t dare look. 

Mon-El, if for no other reasons than loss of patience and face, straightened his coat. “Close enough,” he deemed, and walked out. 

Once he was sufficiently out of sight, Lena stood, straightening her skirt, and turned to the servants, a skinny chambermaid and an older butler. “I wish to be alone, please- No, wait!” 

They halted in their tracks, terrified. 

Lena looked down at the table of lavish food, untouched. “It would be a sin to waste such a gift, while our soldiers are dying and our citizens starve.” 

They still didn’t move, waiting orders. 

“Gather this food – all of it – and have it sent down to the servant’s quarters.” 

The girl’s eyes widened like saucers. “But–” She caught herself, dropping to her knees. “Forgive me, Empress!” 

The man, perhaps a relative but definitely a friend, was near trembling with her. 

“No, please,” Lena insisted. “Rise, you’re not in trouble.” 

As she guided the girl up by the arm, she looked on Lena as a vision from God. “Empress?”

“You can speak, both of you.” 

They looked at each other, uncertain. 

Lena, for the first time in days, attempted to smile. “Please. I want none of this food to waste. All of it is to be packaged and taken downstairs to the servants.” 

“Empress,” the man began. 

“My name is Lena,” she corrected. “And yours?” 

“Winn,” he answered. 

She looked at the girl. 

“Jess.” 

“I’m not Jess-ting,” Lena quipped, earning a smile. “I want all this food taken downstairs.” 

“Empress,” Winn managed despite her eyebrow arching at the title, “if we’re caught, with any of this, it’s a whipping at best.” 

Lena grabbed her quill from her notepad and scrawled a message, while Jess and Winn looked on. “This is a letter,” she explained, as it was doubtful they could read, “is written consent for what I’m asking, and signed. If my husband has a problem with me offering food he should not have left such amounts to be wasted. Please, fetch Nia for me.” 

While Winn hurried to pack up the food, Jess summoned Nia in, who gawked at the scene before her, straightening her uniform. Lena smiled at the expression. 

“Nia,” she mused airily, “I find I might be hungry later, perhaps in my room or a walk around the garden. What do you expect I might fancy?” 

Nia eyed the spread at lightning speed. “The brioche, the blini, some coffee, and grapes.”

Lena nodded. “Grab a tray and make it so. I shall have breakfast in my bedroom. I suspect Captain Danvers will wish to kill me privately.”


	15. Kara, the Myth, the Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OUR GIRL HAS ARRIVED AND HOLY FUCK THERE'S PINING. Okay, build up is out of the way and our girls are HERE and TOGETHER.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this chapter melted my heart, and it's what made me want to write the story. I've attached a link to the song, which you need to hear. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mIPP5MV0js
> 
> Chapter dedicated to SuperLuthor18 and dandelionsgrow, who seem to be my biggest fans and honestly you guys make me wanna keep writing xx

The Captain laughed only until she realised the empress wasn’t joking. “You’re certain he said ‘Kara’?”

“Certain.”

A chain of expletives into a pillow, two face colour changes later, she aimlessly sharpened her dagger on her boot. “There are an _army’s_ worth of consorts patrolling the halls and he sends my _sister_.”

“Why did you not tell me your sister was a consort?” 

“What did it matter? I didn’t think she’d be _yours_!”

“I told you,” Nia growled, sinking miserably beside Lena, “he’s uncharacteristically clever only for cruelty. _Fuck._ The very week we start our adventure, Mon-El gifts you this woman? He’s known to insert spies into situations-”

“My sister is no spy!”

“Mon-El does not know,” Lena assured them both. “He could not. I will give her back and we will go on.”

“How?” Nia whispered anxiously. “She's Mon-El's gift.”

Despite the multitude of images trailing her mind – none of which she could share in present company – the motivation sickened her. “It’s disgusting that he would just _give me a lover,_ like I am an animal to be serviced.” She looked to the captain. “What do you know of her?” 

“Know?” Alex demanded. “Know? She’s my sister! She’s annoying and sweet and cheeky and a pain-”

“Yes, yes, you’re related,” Nia interrupted, “you’d like to kill each other. I’ve known you both through my life and I want to kill you both sometimes, too. Why do we not just kill him? Next time he is on you, stab him in the face. I in the back, Alex cuts his throat, and then you are empress, and I am Lady Nia. The end.”

“It is not so simple,” Alex reminded her. “We need the church to ratify her to the whole of Krypton from the pulpit after, so they must support her. We need a sympathetic military, for if we kill him before that is all in place, then the military and others may get behind Lex, and run over Lena in the process.”

The door opening shot both Nia and Alex to their feet, appearing professional, and the sunlight braid was the first thing Lena spotted. Tailored slacks, a button up shirt, and a snug vest fitting Kara’s solid frame threatened to distract her.

“How dare you!” the empress barked (propriety and the fluttering in her stomach be damned) with such ferocity even Alex blinked. “You just walk into my chambers?”

The blonde faltered, smile gone. “I- I would have ridden,” she stammered, eyes flicking to the captain, “but my horse has trouble with stairs.”

“Sister or no, I could have my captain drag you out.” 

“Then it would not be the first time,” Kara joked gently, “she has done so, and I doubt the last.” 

Before Lena could have the woman removed from her chambers, Mon-El strode in behind her, all schoolboy grins and pride. “Empress? This is Kara. Her father, Zor-El, was a famous ladies' man. Kara is smart, owns books, sings, drinks well, and has a much smaller cock than me.” His grins burst into sniggers. “I jest- Huzzah. I hope you like her.” He looked to Kara and shoved the lady forward. “Make her happy, or else. Must dash. Big day.”

The discomfort in the room could be cut with Alex’s dagger. 

“Alex, Nia, would you excuse us? We’re not to be disturbed until I specify otherwise.”

Too many emotions crossed the captain’s face at once, but she did as ordered, if dragging her feet and about pulling Nia behind her. 

Kara pressed her lips in worry, which troubled the empress. No part of her wanted to frighten the woman, one like this was that of myth and fiction, but it failed to change the situation. She’d no time for gifts and flights of fancy. Being alone with her was temptation enough.

“You may go,” Lena ordered her evenly. 

“I'd rather not,” Kara admitted, the smile glimmering back to life.

Steady. “I said you may go.”

“I'd rather stay a while,” the blonde shrugged lightly, absently tucking a lock of hair back, “so at least he thought it went well, if you don't mind.” The eyebrows flicked up before Lena could answer, the smile dimpling one cheek. “And should you do, I cordially invite you to my execution, and wish we'd known each other better.”

The empress looked the vision over, and then the room. She could hardly send Alex’s sister to her death. It _was_ appropriate to keep her a while – for appearances, of course. She huffed, fidgeting with her wedding ring. “Fine. Just...sit there on the couch.” She practically retreated to her desk. “Away from me.”

“I thank you,” Kara said as she sat.

“You will be silent and touch nothing.”

That smirk. “So long as you don’t tell the emperor I did so.” 

\---

Dusk settled with crickets and evening air. The two were interrupted only by Nia shuffling in to light the lamps and bring food. The serf studied the two, sitting far apart, fully clothed with Lena obviously uncomfortable, and excused herself politely. The empress chuckled slightly and the idea of the serf scrambling back to the captain to relay gossip.

By lamplight, Lena had busied herself with too many books to appear sane, and finally cracked. “You’re staring at me.” 

Kara’s eyes didn’t move. “I mean no offence.”

The empress put down the book and paced the room, aware of the blonde’s eyes trailing back and forth. “What did my husband say to you?” Lena pressed. 

“He said I was to make you happy,” Kara answered, making herself comfortable despite the air of interrogation. “He said it was important to him.”

She stopped, narrow eyed. “And that is all?”

The blonde’s ears went pink. “Yes.”

 _She’s neither charming nor lovely nor adora-_ “For a courtesan you’re a terrible liar.”

An obviously strong arm draped back over the couch. “I am no courtesan, your grace. I am a consort.”

Lena looked away, focusing on the speed of her paces to not run from the room or shriek for her captain. “All the more reason for you to tell me what he ordered.”

Blonde eyebrows bounced then creased. “He said if you showed any animation at all while we were doing it – emit a noise, stir a limb, puff a breath – he would give me a thousand rubles, bronze my hands and put them on display in a museum.”

The Empress’s jaw dropped. “And what did you say to that?”

“I said I thought it would just be nice if Krypton had a museum.”

 _Don’t you dare laugh._ “I see. And why did he choose you?” she enquired suspiciously. “You are friends, I assume?”

“I have met him twice, through my father.”

She processed this, softening involuntarily at the mention of a father. She’d had so little time to grieve the loss of hers. “Alex didn’t mention her parents... She disapproves of the profession?”

The consort nodded to herself, sinking forward with her elbows on her knees (that in no way gave Lena a peek down her blouse, who looked away flushing red.) “She hasn’t told you, it seems,” Kara offered in sudden tenderness. “Fair, it’s her family, too. I was adopted by the Danvers when I was a child. Our fathers were friends through the court – the soldier and the consort – so I’ve known Alex my whole life. She _is_ my sister in all but blood.” 

Against all instinct, one heart sought another, but what good could the truth do? Rumours of her origins – some in truth, some in pure fiction – circulated, but it was widely believed she was Lillian’s blood. 

“My father,” Kara continued, “rest his soul, was a fascinating man, who loved women, music, wine, and sitting a field watching starlings swirl at sunset with his daughter. But the ladies' man seems to be what has stuck.”

“So, you are a professional lover also.”

The blonde had the gall to _chuckle_. 

“Do not laugh at me!”

Kara composed herself, the grin pulling at her cheek. “I will share the joke and then we will laugh together.” She looked the empress over. “As I take it you do not desire a lover – or perhaps not myself personally – I will let you in on my secret.”

Glaring though curious, Lena waited.

“I have only had sex once,” Kara admitted, with such colour it had to be true, “with my drunk and a dear friend, the daughter of a courtesan, who rather thrust herself upon me, forgive the pun. It was not unpleasant, I suppose, but I really had no idea what I was doing.”

Lena stared at this woman. Surely she couldn’t have slept with more people than a court consort. What did that say of both of them? “Your father did not educate you?” she blurted. 

“Not really,” Kara laughed fondly. “He was a big believer in discovery, and adventure, and said he would not deprive me of either.”

The empress retreated a step. “Do you aim to charm me?”

“I would like not to be killed, of course. But I cannot guess what will charm you, so I cannot really guess what will save me. One must simply live and hope it goes well, and is fun while one does it.”

“Then you have come to the wrong palace,” Lena told her, failing to hide the bitterness.

In silence, Lena realised Kara studied her tone, her lips, and quickly looked away. 

“Very well,” Kara guessed, standing up and straightening her pants, “I will try. It'll be fun, albeit possibly fatal if it goes awry.” 

The empress held a hand up in warning as the woman approached. “Close enough, thank you.” 

The blonde shrugged and remained at the allocated distance. “Fair, my lady. Now, I know, a lover should, of course, bring a gift.”

“But you have not,” Lena pointed out.

“I have indeed.”

“Your hands are empty.” 

An eyebrow arched. “I could sing.”

The empress struggled to maintain composure. “Such an ego to assume it is a gift.”

“I will never underestimate you again.”

“You have vowed that before.”

“Which I made when I was not trying to charm you.”

Some moments can shift a life from one to another. Lena’s did so as she realised Kara’s ears had reddened. The tiny smile struggled out. “You’re lying again.”

Kara’s dipped a bit. “I am. Is it working?”

Lena cleared her throat, and sat herself on the lounge, further away from the blonde like a barrier. “We shall see. You may sing, if you wish.”

For an instant, the woman appeared nervous. She cleared her throat, closed her eyes, and what was given, would weep the gods. 

A soft, tender ballad spilled from her lips, somehow close and filling the room. 

_On Raglan Road of an autumn day_

_I saw her first and knew_

_That her dark hair would weave a snare_

_That I might one day rue_

_I saw the danger, and I passed_

_Along the enchanted way_

_And I said, "Let grief be a falling leaf_

_At the dawning of the day"_

_On Grafton Street in November_

_We tripped lightly along the ledge_

_Of a deep ravine where can be seen_

_The worth of passions pledged_

_The Queen of Hearts still making tarts_

_And I not making hay_

_Oh, I loved too much and by such, by such_

_Is happiness thrown away_

The stillness extended so long that Kara’s smile slipped in anxiety, eyes fluttering open. Lena, to her shock, found her eyes wet. She fought to keep her tears from falling, and wiped them away carefully. 

“A Xan ballad,” she sniffed, struggling through the knot in her throat. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard – had – anything from home.” 

“It is difficult, Empress, to be far from home. I know such pain.” 

“You do?” 

Kara carefully touched the silver beads of her long braid. “You may not know Argo. It’s a district of northern Krypton, a cold, icy land. Braids are customary.” 

Lena’s eyes (from a researcher’s perspective, she assured herself) flicked to the golden hair and the intricate jewellery. She couldn’t help it, rising to her feet. “May I?” 

With a smile of tenderness, no predator nor pride, Kara stepped toward the lamp light and turned around. The flame reflected like a halo as Lena approached, fiddling with her ring. 

Up close, the braid was more simplistic, like Alex’s. It began at the crown of the head, woven down, adding pieces to pull it tight to the head, before trailing down the back. It’s distinction was it appeared inverted from the traditional French. Within the braid, over each knot, followed a leather ribbon. Woven through was a series of beads, some gold, others silver, in no discernible pattern. 

“Each bead is a member of your clan,” Kara explained as Lena tried not to focus on how her voice had softened, the obvious strength of her shoulders that peeked out from the low collar of her shirt. “The silver is for those who’ve crossed over. The hair grows with us, and so we use it to remember.” 

The number of silver was now inescapable, and it squeezed Lena’s heart. 

As the lamp flickered from breath, she realised how close she was standing to the blonde, and immediately retreated. “You may stay the night,” Lena blurted, straightening her dress and clearing her throat. “Sleep on the lounge. In the morning, I shall go to Mon-El, thank him for your company, say you were pleasant. You shall be safe, and we will be done.”

That smile glowed under lamplight. “Grand.”

Kara excused herself to let Lena change before bed. Nia about squeezed her for details but she was hurried out (though Lena’s heart did warm at something so juvenile – one friend pestering another for details of a suitor.)

The empress was uncomfortable being so underdressed before a stranger – Lillian would be mortified – but Kara’s eyes, to her credit, did not wander. In fact, she faced the wall in respect as Lena climbed into bed. The couch creaked under Kara’s weight, and in the darkness, she was certain she could hear her thundering heart ringing off the walls. 

Lena’s constant tossing and turning now troubled her – was she bothering Kara? What was she thinking? - so much that so she couldn’t sleep. But perhaps looking tired the next morning would sell the rouse. 

In the quiet dark, Lena took a dangerous chance. “Kara?” 

“Empress?” came the gentle whisper.

“Thank you – for the gift.” 

A tiny laugh. “The honour is mine.” 

One step forward, an eternity, then another. “Might I hear it again?” 


	16. The General, the Colonel, the Captain, the Imbecile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As pointed out: 
> 
> cerocerobye on Chapter 19Wed 03 Mar 2021 08:29AM EST  
> Hey, I like it. Even how crude it is that Lena has to go through the havoc of that time  
> The only thing I don't like is brainy being a court simpleton. Although if lex is his circle, I'm not surprised. Poor, he has so much to give.
> 
> Disgaybled_Fabled_Balladeer on Chapter 19Wed 03 Mar 2021 03:55PM EST  
> I'll be totally honest I stopped watching the show at the Sanvers engagement bc I wanted happy queers. The only things I know of after is via tumblr. I knew Brainy as a character but in no connection to 'Dox.' I Googled 'Superman Villians' and that was a name that came up. When I read comics I'm more Batwoman, Batman, Promethea, Buffy, Gotham, things like that. I'm gonna make a note and go back and change the name to anything else.
> 
> Moving forward, and corrected, formerly 'Dox' is now 'Miller.'
> 
> @cerocerobye thank you so much for pointing it out.

Within the throne room, around a magnificent table of model terrain and maps, stood the grandest chess pieces of Krypton. On one side stood Archbishop Luthor and Minister Miller, the other with General J’Onnz and a woman significantly shorter than he (though she held herself with such severity and strength that nobody dared note it.) Dark brown eyes glared down Luthor, her black hair twisted into a tight bun.

All studied the map and the pieces covering it with intensity, and this was the scene Alex arrived. Her leg throbbed though she made no mention of it. “Apologies, sir,” she directed at J’Onnz, kneeling with a salute. “The security detail required a double check.”

“Captain Danvers, welcome,” the General greeted, encouraging her to rise. “You’re here before the emperor still, so no harm done.”

“She does not meet clearance,” Miller challenged tightly, about sneering at the Captain.

“In military interests, Miller,” J’Onnz retorted, “I include my best people.”

“The voice of a blasphemer threatens the sanctity of Krypton,” Lex warned.

“And what constitutes such a person?” the smaller woman snapped without hesitation, and the holy men grudgingly backed down.

“Captain Danvers,” J’Onnz introduced, “Colonel Maggie Sawyer.”

Alex’s eyes went wide, dropping the knee so hard it thumped against the tiles. “An honour, Ma’am. Your recruitment training and protection is a staple of Argo.”

“Rise,” Maggie ordered. “Your reputation in the battle of Erkol precedes you, Danvers.”

“You- You know me?”

“There are few soldiers who do not. I heard you took some vicious shrapnel in the event.”

“A scratch,” she scoffed, flushing.

“Blasted through the thigh saving her team,” J’Onnz praised in earnest. “I’d be dead if not for her. She’s one of my best, Sawyer.”

“And you’re back in the field already?” the colonel marvelled, eyes flicking to Alex’s leg.

“No, Ma’am. I now head protection detail for the empress.”

“I’d trust no other for the job,” J’Onnz included. “Danvers’ Argo training is unique, and I think collaboration would be of service to Krypton.”

Maggie grinned slightly. “I guessed by the braid. What do you think, Danvers, could you teach me a thing or two?”

The captain cleared her throat. “Of course.”

“Can we start?” came the bark as Mon-El strolled in, the room saluting as he seated himself at the throne. “I was busy giving the empress her new whore.”

Alex’s jaw flexed. She’d departed the chambers some time after him, so he’d deliberately delayed them.

“Indeed,” J’Onnz interjected quickly, using a long stick to indicate the territory. “Focus up, all. The Daxamites are here, here, and here. They’ve advanced on our territory following the battle of Ekhol. If we don’t make use of the new alliance, and sure our fronts, Daxam may invade Kandor.”

“The fuck they will!” Mon-El spat.

“Now, I suggest-”

The emperor snatched the stick. “Give me that.”

Maggie’s eyes bugged as she bit back her temper. Alex mentally kicked herself for noting the way the colonel’s biceps tensed, the flash of dark eyes.

“When I started this war against Daxam,” Mon-El began fiercely, “it was because…” The room stilled. “Well, my father beat them, and I…” His cheeks flushed. “Because the Daxamites are fucking depraved animals, as is well known! Bland, moose buggering, lingonberry gorging, humourless _fucks_ – with a seaport we would do well to have! But then, instead of _winning_ , you-” He glared at the officers, to the religious mens' joy. “-Allow us to be pushed back, so they are now in Krypton itself. I smartly gave you the draft for the numbers and still you fail. It's a fucking mess, to summarise.”

Maggie stood up straighter. “Emperor, our troops weary. They starve and disease is rampant. The draft gave us numbers with no funds for training or supplies. It forced regions to ship out men who’d never held a sword or gun in their life and sent them to the frontlines.”

“I’m not interested in the excuses of a dwarf,” he snapped. “And you two!” He rounded on the holy men, whose smiles immediately vanished. “Your visions and your prayers and your blessings, what the fuck has it done for us?”

“It has given you the empress,” Lex reminded him, “your loving wife.”

Mon-El snorted. “Loving? Do you jest? She is stone whose face would crack should she smile.”

Alex’s eye twitched.

“And the alliance with Xan,” Miller pointed out. “It has strengthened our numbers and trade routes-”

“And currently faces us with the same problem as Colonel Sawyer pointed out,” J’Onnz replied. “Numbers without resources is just cannon fodder. Those of power often don’t see the small scale problems-”

“Did you just slander me?” the emperor warned.

“Not at all, your grace. I aim to offer you new insight, in Captain Danvers.”

“I don’t see what my wife’s guard dog could offer that you should not have already.”

“Emperor,” Alex spoke up, nails digging into her palm, “I'm from Argo, and our methods of training and battle differ, which is why we’ve survived every siege of several centuries.”

“Because nobody wants your icy chamber pot of a town,” Lex said, earning a favoured chuckle from the emperor. “The men are weary and need spiritual counsel.”

Alex breathed deep, thinking perhaps she’d drawn blood. “I've been on the frontlines most of my career. Our biggest killers are never the enemy but disease. Smallpox, diphtheria, and cholera plague the men. If your prayers were heard, they would be healed-”

“Careful, girl,” Miller warned. “Such blasphemy in your soul, what hope have you to command others?”

“In Argo we use methods of cleaning rituals and isolation periods to avoid the spread. We need resources for medical supplies, clean water-”

“Enough!” Mon-El cried so loud the room flinched. “So, I have a plan.” He scanned the board and indicated with the stick. “I say we…come from here, through here, split our forces in four, all at once, probably at night, so they cannot see us. Maybe we have horses, although they are noisy, so maybe we just run there. Then, at dawn, when they are breakfasting with cock in one hand and brioche in the other, we attack and destroy them, winning the war in one morning. Huzzah!”

Silence.

“It's an interesting idea,” Miller offered weakly.

“It is genius,” Mon-El confirmed and glared at Maggie, thrusting the stick her way. “Pick it apart if you can, you tiny fuck.”

The colonel rolled her shoulders, which Alex heard crack under strain. “Well… Sir, _this_ here is a river, eleven feet deep, which you wish our men to cross.”

“Boats,” he answered.

“Carry boats?” Maggie asked.

“Yes.”

Maggie’s hand tightened on the table. “May slow us down somewhat, sir, making us susceptible to attack. Also, _this_ is an open plain. It cannot be approached by stealth.”

Mon-El’s bruised ego scratched out. “At night,” he insisted quickly, “wearing back. Or green, if the grass is tall.”

Perhaps then the room realised the futility, exchanging looks despite their loathing of the opposing side.

“The emperor has given us much food for thought,” Lex offered.

“I will lay out my plan,” J’Onnz added, “and incorporate some of the emperor's fine thoughts.”

“Huzzah!” Mon-El declared.

Silence.

“ _Huzzah."_

“Huzzah,” came the weary reply.


	17. The Morning After

Lena had never slept well. She tossed and turned, woke frequently, slept little, and plagued by nightmares more often than not. 

That night she dreamt of raven hair and green eyes she hadn’t seen since she was a small child. Memories of tender Xan ballads swept through her like hot tea in a blizzard. Being the spitting image of her mother, as Lionel had told her, was both a blessing and a curse. She saw her mother’s face in every mirror, and Lillian would never forgive her for it. 

Blinking herself awake, Lena was certain she’d imagined the evening before, until there came a soft snoring from the other side of the room. Sitting up, clutching the covers to her chest, she couldn’t help smiling. 

The golden braid had been unravelled, spilling out in waves. Kara lay sprawled on the lounge, her boots on the floor and a pile of beads and leather ribbon on the table. There was something so pure in her sleeping face that Lena had to tear her gaze away. Thankfully all of her notes and writings had been locked in the desk. As Lena slipped out of bed, she poked her head into the hall and called Nia in, careful not to wake the sleeping consort. 

The lady-in-waiting about shoved Lena into the bathroom. “Tell me all!” 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Lena insisted. “We talked briefly, sat in silence, she sang for me, and that was all.” 

Nia appeared unimpressed. “Being empress is wasted on you. We must get rid of her – quickly.” 

“I thought you were friends.”

“I love her like a sister, but we’ve much to discuss, and the situation is fragile enough as it is.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Alex was present in the war room yesterday.” 

Lena’s eyes went wide. “Very well, we must hurry. I’ll thank Mon-El, he’ll release Kara, and we’ll return to what matters.” 

The women rushed to get Lena ready, and when they emerged, Jess was setting coffee on the table as Kara ran a hand through her sleep-mussed hair. Kara spared a moment to hug Nia and kiss her cheek, and they were left alone again. 

“Empress,” she greeted, hair spilling from her shoulder as she bowed. “How did you sleep?” 

“Well enough. And you?” 

“Perfectly. Alex has always insisted she could toss me from our bedroom window into the snow and I wouldn’t wake.” She swept her hair back casually, weaving the braid and threading through the beads and ribbon (which was in no way distracting.) “I thank you, again, for allowing me to stay – and live, with it.” 

“When you are ready, I shall breakfast and speak to Mon-El, thank him for your company, and then you may go in safety.”

Kara’s smile dipped an instant before flushing red. “Might I suggest we perform a small playlet?”

“A playlet?”

“To convince him it went well.”

Lena sighed as much as her corset allowed. “I hate all the pretend at court.”

“You must treat it as a foolish game. The viewer is your quarry and when they're convinced, you have won and have made a fool of them. That's a victory for you.”

The empress almost laughed. “It is...possibly helpful.” 

Skilled hands paused at a silver bead. “Empress?” 

“Lena,” she allowed gently. “If I am supposed to have spent the night with you, you should at least use my name."

“Fair – Lena.” The name sent shivers over her arms. “He shall ask what we did.” 

Lena visibly reddened under her makeup. “You think so?” 

“As I have...met him, I imagine he will want details. My married clients, the men seek details for their own pleasure. Embellishment makes for fanciful gossip among friends, so both will boast of grandeur."

“You’ve done this long then?” 

“No, I was a bard in Argo and taught music to children, but work changed as the war worsened, and so here I am. My name gave me more credit, which helped. So far, the women have just wanted intimate companionship or...small pleasures.” 

“You only work with women?” Lena enquired, trying not to dwell on pleasures, and busied herself filling their coffee cups.

Kara nodded. “Argo is far north enough we’ve not been so pressed by the church. What is whispered and implied here is open at home.” 

_It could just be her profession_ , Lena told herself before her hopes could soar. “I assumed Mon-El thought this arrangement amusing, given your sister is my guard.” 

“As did I.”

She cleared her throat gently. “Alex has told me the ways of her heart.” 

“She has?” 

“She has.” The empress smiled slightly. “And it runs in the family?” 

The consort chuckled some, looking up at Lena with those precious eyes. "It does.”

_Thank Rao._

“When the emperor gave me to you, I was uncertain if it were a joke or not. I’ve known married women, yes, but none of them have been empress.” 

“The pressures of the role are different regardless,” she confessed, setting her cup down, “and my brother is Archbishop Luthor.”

The blonde relaxed back against the lounge, crossing her ankle over her knee. “Well, then it is a grand thing I’ve not been given to the Archbishop, isn’t it? I’ve been ordered by the emperor himself. So, playlet or no, your brother’s opinion is not my concern.” 

“It is unfortunately mine,” Lena told her, “my public image must be upheld, for the sake of the empire.” She set her cup down. “As we speak of playlets, what have you...said for previous clients? We shall just...go with that.” 

Kara grinned cheekily, licking the coffee from her lips. “You seek details of my conquest, Lena?” she joked. “You will need to sell the rouse yourself, that you are weary and spent. A giggle is good.”

“A giggle?” she repeated.

“It is light and fun.”

“I am not six. I do not giggle.”

“Was that the last time you did?” the blonde teased.

“I thought you sought to escape execution. Does it suit you to scratch at the empress?” 

“Very well, as your husband has vowed my execution should I have failed to make you happy, I aim to tell him I’ve done so. Should he ask, I kissed you, on this couch, for an extent, as if you were a gift of water in the desert. I then took you to the bed, continued my praise down your body, and needed no toys as I ate you like a peach until you met Rao, several times.” 

Within the same seconds, the dropped coffee cup shattered against the table; Alex crashed through the door, dagger in hand, ready to both defend her charge and cover her own eyes; and Kara burst into such laughter she could not breathe enough to explain the situation; Lena longed for the earth to swallow her. 


	18. The Playlet, Act I

The maid and consort were all impish smiles as they made their way to the emperor’s apartment, while the empress and captain seemed prepared to sprint from the nearest opening. Nia and Alex barred beyond a certain point, Kara and Lena reached the chamber door alone. The blonde quickly reached out and tugged a strand of Lena’s hair loose, kissing her cheek, close to her lips, leaving a lipstick print.

“Showtime,” she murmured, leaving a trail of goosebumps, and placed a soft hand at the stunned brunette’s waist.

It was in this state the emperor found them. His eyebrow arched. “Kara, sit in the hallway. I will see you shortly.”

Lena followed the bastard in, and seated herself at the table, fixing her hair and trying to appear more giddy than stunned.

“So she has made you happy, it seems?” Mon-El teased.

“Indeed,” Lena answered.

“So?”

“Thank you, husband,” she quoted, “for your efforts to my happiness.”

“How was it?” he asked her over his food. “Heard good things of the Danvers, but haven’t had one myself yet. Give me a review.”

Lena briefly contemplated stabbing him with his own fork, but little would be accomplished by it. “She is an extraordinary woman,” Lena told him, aiming for as much truth as she could despite discomfort. “She sang for me, a Xan ballad, that was the most enchanting-”

“I did not hire her to be a music box but to fuck you,” Mon-El reminded her.

“Yes,” she managed. “It was wonderful. She is...talented- with her mouth. Her reputation tells no lies.”

He smirked grandly at the idea while Lena’s stomach rolled before him.

“I see. Kara, enter!”

The blonde let herself in and approached the table, hands neatly behind her back as she bowed. “Your grace?”

“You have made the empress happy,” he told her as he stood and clapped her on the back. “Good job.” He hit her so hard in the chest she doubled over, bug eyed and winded.

Lena shot to her feet in horror, clattering the table. _“Mon-El!”_

“That's for fucking my wife.” He clapped her on the back again. “But well done. Bravo.”

“It is done,” Lena told him quickly, “so she may go now.”

The emperor blinked at his wife. “What?”

“We spent a lovely night, and I thank you profusely for the gift. She has done as you’ve asked, and so she may go.”

He glared at the consort, who was struggling upright and shaking in fright. “She cannot have truly made you that happy if you want her to go.” He whirled on his wife. “A lovely night? What the fuck is a lovely night? And now you wish her to go?” Mon-El threw the consort to the ground and his boot slammed into her back. “ _That_ is a fucking failure.”

“Kara!” Lena cried as she pulled into a ball to protect her head.

“I am very disappointed in you, as would your father be.”

“So sorry, sir,” Kara whimpered.

“Stop!” the empress shouted, and had to act fast. “I did not know I could keep her!”

He stopped his assault. “What?”

“I thought she was a gift – for a night!”

_When they're convinced, you have won and have made a fool of them._

“You are my husband after all,” Lena pressed him, “I assumed you wished me to lie with you. I did not realise she could be ongoing.” She threw herself into her husband’s arms, swallowing her revulsion and kissed him deeply. “Oh, it is marvellous to keep her. Huzzah. I thank you, husband!”

Mon-El smiled, wrapping his arms tight around her waist and kissed her back before pushing her off. “Right. Okay.” He looked down to Kara, who’d remained on the floor. “Do it well or I will cut your breasts off, as they are a useless appendage if you cannot use it to bring joy.”

Satisfied with himself for a job well done, he picked up a few pastries and a coffee, and stepped over Kara on the way out.

Lena sank to the floor with the consort, helping her sit up, cupping her cheek as guilt ate at her. She’d failed to sell a simple rouse to an imbecile. What hope had she of ruling Krypton? A silly girl with silly ideals. “Are you all right?”

Kara eased herself into what had been Mon-El’s seat and beheld the spread of the table, holding her chest. “I will heal,” Kara assured her and helped herself to a pastry and coffee. “God, this is delicious. So what is the rest of your day?”

Lena’s jaw dropped as she slipped into the next chair and scooted closer. “Are you daft?” She handed Kara a shot of vodka for the pain. “How can you just smile? Do you not wish to break his head open?”

“No, I wish to enjoy my breakfast,” Kara told her through an apricot danish, “which is what I'm doing. May I have some more coffee, please?”

“ _He just beat you_ ,” Lena blurted incredulously as she handed another mug.

“It was minutes ago.”

“ _Moments_. You are baffling!”

Kara smiled warmly as she reached out and corrected Lena’s stray lock she’d messed before. “Thank you for saving me, by the way. You don't need to do that. Truth is, he'll do as he wishes with me hang me, flay me, or take me hunting and for a nice lunch. One cannot let oneself live in fear of that. He can kick me, but I will not let him rob me of my enjoyment of this danish, that coffee, or this day. I will not let fear take my life from me.”

Lena studied this woman in wonder. “You are the most remarkable woman I’ve known, though again I stress you have come to the wrong palace. However, as Mon-El has not released you, we must continue the charade.”

Kara’s lips twitched. “Strangely not disappointed.”

The empress ignored that, pressed on. “Let me think. There might be a way around. Today I’m to attend a banquet in honour of the returning soldiers. I assume, given the situation, you are expected to join me...in a, uh, romantic capacity.”

Kara nodded. “Then you understand it will be expected for me to be tender with you, and for you to flaunt me as a prize.”

 _Oh, dear Rao._ “Indeed.”

The blonde smiled, slipping into character and squeezed her hand. “The play continues, my love, I’m excited for Act Two.”


	19. The Banquet Part 1: Those Who Made It Home

The heavy crown pressed into Lena’s head as she stood beside her loathsome husband. Surrounding them in the throne room, the general, colonel, and Captain Danvers all dressed uniforms and finery. Nia and Kara remained in a distance among the courtesans, Lillian backed by her own small army. Noticing the way the captain fidgeted around the colonel, Lena shuffled backwards, fussing with her skirt, “accidentally” bumping Alex into Maggie.

“Forgive me, I am composed mostly of skirt, it seems.”

“All is well, Empress,” Maggie replied easily, “as you make me grateful for my uniform.”

“Well, you both look dashing.” As predicted, they scanned each other.

The drum of many approaching feet echoed through the hall caused the room to stand at attention.

“Here they come,” Mon-El hissed, and scanned his shirt, empty compared to the general. “Give me some of your medals.”

“What?”

“Give me some of your fucking medals.”

Alex and Maggie tightened their shoulders in aggravation as the emperor helped himself – Lena contemplating pushing him from the platform – yet all hearts we lost to the oncoming sight. Weary, injured men limped and shuffled into the room, riddled with scars and missing limbs and appendages. An impossible pain trailed with them, and these were the ones who’d made it home.

A moment of silence was observed. Lena’s heart threatened to fracture.

“Welcome,” Mon-El greeted grandly, stepping forward. “The Kryptonian fighting man is the greatest in the world. I have created a rosemary blini, stuffed with chicken hearts, representing those evil Daxamite fucks. We will munch on their tasty hearts. And then, wash it down with a black, pepper vodka that my father loved, as he loved you all. Huzzah. To my father, Mon-El the Third, The Great. And to me, Mon-El the Fourth, the…” The room waited uncomfortably. “Me! Huzzah!”

“Huzzah,” the people echoed, cheering weakly.

Lena had had enough. She stepped off the platform in such purpose that Alex almost grabbed her by the arm as if she’d tripped. The empress strode deliberately through the crowd, past the courtesans, Nia and Alex confused and trailing close behind.

The soldiers looked to this woman, now standing among them instead of above, in a mix of surprise, admiration, and desperation. New as empress, most had never seen her before, and she hated the idea of men dying for a faceless regime. They needed a leader, and it was time for her to act as one.

Beyond them, Lena spotted kind blue eyes, crinkled with a tender smile. She looked to the men, breathed deep, and reached inside herself. “I am Empress Lena Luthor,” came a voice she didn’t know she possessed, “I arrived as a Xanian, and now I stand before you as a Kryptonian, in more than marriage. I stand before you as a woman of two worlds and one heart. In my time here I have found friendship, love, and compassion I did not know possible. I have seen your strength, your kindness, your fear, your love for your homeland, and you inspire me. We are only as strong as the heart of our people, and you give me hope. Let me return it.

“I look at you all, and my heart breaks – for your pain, for your sorrows. I see a war that has taken so much, lives lost, a country scarred and scared. But I also see, externally signs of what we all carry inside us, every day…and is normally unseen. Wounds. Pain. Hardships. Betrayals. And also love. For today, you are all as one.”

The men’s eyes softened. Some watered.

“And when you look at each other, in all your power and weakness, recognise it. Understand, we are all Krypton, no matter our first land. In our pain, and in our sorrows. In our simple hopes for less pain… and less wounded future. For a future where our hearts sing, and rush with joy at the country we build. One where we trust in each other, knowing we are bonded by our love for Krypton. And our joy in a brand new future.” The hall looked on in a heavy silence. “Huzzah.”

The answer was stillness. Surrounding her, like a wave, every soldier present, no matter their injury, sunk to one knee, a fist over their heart, one open palm out. Alex’s jaw shook as she followed, with Nia, J’Onnz, Maggie, Kara.

The ultimate Kryptonian respect – _I am yours, lead the way._

She didn’t need to turn to know her husband’s eyes scorched into her back.


	20. The Banquet Part 2: The Gift

Mon-El’s tight smile had told Lena all she needed to know – she had stepped far beyond her place. “My darling wife,” he praised as he kissed her crown before the crowd, “who’d have known you’ve such a fine tongue?”

The general and colonel quickly spared her by discussing victories with the men, allowing Nia and Alex to smuggle the empress aside. The ladies were escorted down the hall where tea and champagne had been set up. Lena resented the idea that she not be included, but conceded that this was another war to be won. First the men, now the women.

“I thought you were getting rid of her!” Alex hissed nervously through a smile the instant they were out of earshot.

“I tried, Mon-El will kill her – I already had to stop him from beating her.”

Alex looked ready to slaughter the emperor there and then, then her eyes shot to Lena.

“Worry not,” the empress assured her quietly, “she knows nothing of...us. To include her would endanger her.”

“Agreed.”

“Empress,” Cat greeted as she caught up, “you’ve given the men much to hope for.”

“All is bliss in the court of Mon-El.”

The blonde’s eyebrow quirked and she leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I suggest you find company in the ladies of it, as they are the whispers in many ears. Hiding with your serf and captain will do you no favours.”

“They earn as much respect as I,” Lena commented stubbornly, attempting her ‘official’ voice, which fell short before the small woman’s gaze.

“Yet you are their empress, and I suggest you remind them as such.”

“She tells no lies, your grace,” Nia agreed, hands clasped neatly as they were being watched from a distance. “You must strike me down – in front of them.”

“I will not harm you!”

“You shall all the same. Onward.” The young serf discreetly elbowed her lady forward.

Lena recoiled at the very idea of hurting the girl, yet they were right. She’d made a great display of power already and could not afford to discredit it by those questioning her loyalty. Digging for that strength, she raised her chin and strode with such an air that all parted for her, pulling others aside. As she walked, she linked an arm with Kara’s and pulled the woman with her.

“Mother,” Lena gasped, kissing her cheek and holding her hands, “don’t you look radiant?”

“My dear,” Lillian replied, “its been too long. Where have you been hiding?”

“The halls whisper the empress has a new plaything,” one woman giggled. “Is it true?”

 _Be brave._ “Here she stands,” she indicated Kara, who smiled brightly.

“Kara Danvers, my lady,” she introduced herself with a small bow.

Lillian’s face froze so tightly in a smile it might shatter. Whatever their immediate feelings, she was their empress, and all the ladies cooed and fussed. The tea room was grandly coated in a manner of chairs, drinks, and food. Lena made note to sit in the frontmost and grandest seat, Kara perched on the armrest.

“Danvers,” one repeated, jaw dropping in awe in recognition. “As in daughter of Zor El?”

“The very same,” Kara laughed, dipping a little and slipping an arm about Lena’s shoulders. It took great efforts for the empress to remain one colour. “Fortune has smiled on me for such a lovely companion.”

“And you are a courtesan?” Lillian probed stiffly, having composed herself.

“A consort, ma’am.”

Lena knew that look.

“I see. And does Alexander know of this arrangement?”

“I imagine so,” Kara answered, “as I am here at the emperor’s request.”

“Ladies,” Lena inserted, “in my introductions to the palace, I fear I have not known you as well as I should. Tell me of your lives here.”

“All is bliss in the court of Mon-El,” Lillian answered deliberately.

She waved her mother off. “Of course, but if tiny improvements could be made, and I could help you as empress, that would gladden my heart to be a friend and a use to you all.”

“Why don't you stop the war?” Lillian asked. Few others could afford to be so bold.

With Kara’s thumb absently stroking her neck, Lena held her ground. “I shall note it down. Anymore immediate things? How is your son, Tatyana?”

“Boris? He was unwell. Fucking Chekhov saw him, but…”

“We must have the most modern medicine,” the empress decided. “We shall bring a new doctor from France.”

“What a friend you are to us,” Svenska insisted like acid. “How is Kara?”

“Here she stands,” Kara reminded her.

“Yet I asked the empress.”

“She makes heart warm,” Lena told them, letting her head droop onto the consort’s arm.

“Surely more detail than that,” Svenska pressed sweetly. “If you _really_ are our friend, we will need you to open up to us, if it is true, and we are to feel you love us.”

“This hardly seems appropriate, given the company,” Lillian offered nearing desperation. For once, Alex agreed.

“What are small details between friends?”

“Bold to assume such a title,” came a sharp voice that stilled the group.

Nia.

The serf’s arms had folded defiantly over her chest.

_Oh, Rao. Now?_

Svenska’s jaw dropped. “She cannot‐ Apologize!” She turned to Lena, tinting purple.

“Go back to your quarters, Nia,” Lena snapped. “Now.” 

The girl didn’t move. “Have your whore do it.” 

Nia had hit the floor before  she realised Lena had slapped her. Holding her cheek, she looked up in shock, Kara stumbling back into Alex. 

“You will not speak of Kara,” Lena insisted, mimicking her mother’s tone the best she could, and whirled on the group, who recoiled in shock. “That goes for all of you. Am I heard? I know of your whispers and have spoken to my husband on this. As Kara is his gift to me, he sees it as a sleight on him. If any slander is heard again, no matter what family, what wealth, they will be a servant, stripped of everything, and we will slap the shit out of them on a daily basis.” Dead silence. “Am I heard?”

The room managed to nod, even Lillian wide eyed.

“Nia, wipe the blood from your nose,” Lena ordered. “Pour me wine. Alex, escort the consort and the serf to my chambers.”

Alex wavered. “Your grace-”

“Did you hear a question? Because I gave an order.”

The captain bowed stiffly. “Yes, your grace, my apologies.”

Lena’s heart squeezed as she caught Kara’s hurt expression as she was ushered out, and hoped Alex had enough sense to explain some truths. Before the room could finish reeling, the empress pushed on. “Now, other things you ladies need from me? Mother, can I help you in any way?”

Lillian jumped slightly at the address. “I- No, Empress. I am satisfied.”

Lena sipped her wine, never breaking eye contact. “Marvelous.”


End file.
